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QUEEN     MARY 


A    DRAMA 


BY 


ALFRED    TENNYSON 


[author's  edition,  from  advance  sheets] 


.  '        '   '  '■     '  •         -       , 

BOSTON 
JAMES    R.   OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY 

(LATE   T1CKNOR   &    FIELDS,    AND    FIELDS,    OSGOOD,    Si   CO.) 
IS75 


Fbanklin  Pbess:  Rand,  Aveey,  &  Co., 
Boston. 


* 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 


Queen  Mary. 

Philip  (King  of  Naples  and  Sicily,  afterwards  King  of  Spain). 

The  Princess  Elizabeth. 
^        Reginald  Pole  (Cardinal  and  Papal  Legate). 

Simon  Renard  (Spanish  Ambassador). 

Le  Sieur  de  Noailles  (French  Ambassador). 

Thomas  Cranmer  (Archbishop  of  Canterbury). 
~       Sir  Nicholas  Heath  (Archbishop  of  York ;  Lord  Chancellor 
after  Gardiner). 

Edward  Courtenay  (Earl  of  Devon). 

Lord    William    Howard    (afterwards    Lord    Howard   and 
Lord  High  Admiral). 

Lord  Williams  of  Thame. 

Lord  Paget. 

Lord  Petre. 

Stephen  Gardiner  (Bishop  of  Winchester  and  Lord  Chan- 
cellor). 

Edmund  Bonner  (Bishop  of  London). 

Thomas  Thirlby  (Bishop  of  Ely). 

Sir  Thomas  Wyatt        i  ,     .     „ 

\    (Insurrectionary  Leaders). 
Sir  Thomas  Stafford  ) 

Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall. 

Sir  Robert  Southwell. 

Sir  Henry  Bedingfield. 

5 

■ 


Dramatis  Personcz. 

Sir  William  Cecil. 

Sir  Thomas  White  (Lord  Mayor  of  London). 

The  Duke  of  Alva        )  ,.  „ 

[   (attending  on  Phihp). 
The  Count  de  Feria    ) 

Peter  Martyr. 

Father  Cole. 

Father  Bourne. 

Villa  Garcia. 

Soto. 

Captain  Brett 

Antony  Knyvett 

Peters  (Gentleman  of  Lord  Howard). 

Roger  (Servant  to  Noailles). 

William  (Servant  to  Wyatt). 

Steward  of  Household  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth. 

Old  Nokes  and  Nokes. 

Marchioness  of  Exeter  (Mother  of  Courtenay). 

Lady  Clarence  \ 

Lady  Magdalen  Dacres  £  (Ladies  in  waiting  to  the  Queen). 

Alice  ' 

Maid  of  Honor  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth. 

Joan 
Tib 


|  (Adherents  of  Wyatt). 


[  (Two  Country  Wives). 


Lords  and  other  Attendants,  Members  of  the  Privy  Council,  Members 
of  Parliament,  two  Gentlemen,  Aldermen,  Citizens,  Peasants, 
Ushers,  Messengers,  Guards,  Pages,  &c. 


QUEEN    MARY 


QUEEN     MARY. 


ACT   I. 

SCENE  L  — ALDGATE  RICHLY  DECORATED. 

Crowd.     Marshalmen. 

Marshalman. 
Stand  back,  keep  a  clear  lane.  When  will  her 
Majesty  pass,  sayst  thou  ?  why  now,  even  now  ;  where- 
fore draw  back  your  heads  and  your  horns  before  I 
break  them,  and  make  what  noise  you  will  with  your 
tongues,  so  it  be  not  treason.  Long  live  Queen  Mary, 
the  lawful  and  legitimate  daughter  of  Harry  the  Eighth. 
Shout,  knaves ! 

Citizens. 
Long  live  Queen  Mary ! 

First  Citizen. 

That's  a  hard  word,  legitimate  ;  what  does  it  mean  ? 

7 


8  Queen  Mary.  [act  :. 

Second  Citizen. 
It  means  a  bastard. 

Third  Citizen. 
Nay,  it  means  true-born. 

First  Citizen. 
Why,  didn't  the  Parliament  make  her  a  bastard  ? 

Second  Citizen. 
No ;   it  was  the  Lady  Elizabeth. 

Third  Citizen. 
That  was  after,  man  ;  that  was  after. 

First  Citizen. 
Then  which  is  the  bastard  ? 

Second  Citizen. 
Troth,  they  be  both  bastards  by  Act  of  Parliament 
and  Council. 

Third   Citizen. 
Ay,  the  Parliament  can  make  every  true-born  man  of 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  9 

us  a  bastard.  Old  Nokes,  can't  it  make  thee  a 
bastard  ?  thou  shouldst  know,  for  thou  art  as  white 
as  three  Christmasses. 

Old  Nokes  {dreamily). 
Who's  a-passing  ?     King  Edward  or  King  Richard  ? 

Third  Citizen. 
No,  old  Nokes. 

Old  Nokes. 
It's  Harry ! 

Third  Citizen. 
It's  Queen  Mary. 

Old  Nokes. 
The  blessed  Mary's  a-passing  !         [Falls  on  his  knees. 

Nokes. 

Let  father  alone,  my  masters !  he's  past  your  ques- 
tioning. 

Third  Citizen. 
Answer  thou  for  him,  then  !  thou  art  no  such  cockerel 


io  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

thyself,  for  thou  was  born  i'  the  tail  end  of  old  Harry 
the  Seventh. 

Nokes. 
Eh !  that  was  afore  bastard-making  began.     I  was 
born  true  man  at  five  in  the  forenoon  i'  the  tail  of  old 
Harry,  and  so  they  can't  make  me  a  bastard. 

Third  Citizen. 
But  if  Parliament  can  make  the  Queen  a  bastard,  why, 
it  follows  all  the  more  that  they  can  make  thee  one,  who 
art  fray'd  i'  the  knees,  and  out  at  elbow,  and  bald  o' 
the  back,  and  bursten  at  the  toes,  and  down  at  heels. 

Nokes. 

I  was  born  of  a  true  man  and  a  ring'd  wife,  and  I 
can't  argue  upon  it ;  but  I  and  my  old  woman  'ud  burn 
upon  it,  that  would  we. 

Marshalman. 
What  are  you  cackling  of  bastardy  under  the  Queen's 
own  nose  ?     I'll  have  you  floggM  and  burnt  too,  by  the 
Rood  I  will. 

First  Citizen. 
He  swears  by  the  Rood.     Whew  I 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  1 1 

Second  Citizen. 
Hark !  the  trumpets. 

\The  Procession  passes,  Mary  and  Elizabeth 
riding  side  by  side,  and  disappears  under 
the  gate. 

Citizens. 

Long  live  Queen  Mary  !  down  with  all  traitors  !  God 
save  Her  Grace ;  and  death  to  Northumberland ! 

[Exeunt. 

Manent  Two  Gentlemen. 

First  Gentleman. 
By  God's  light  a  noble  creature,  right  royal. 

Second  Gentleman. 
She  looks  comelier  than  ordinary  to-day ;  but  to  my 
mind  the  Lady  Elizabeth  is  the  more  noble  and  royal. 

First  Gentleman. 

I  mean  the  Lady  Elizabeth.  Did  you  hear  (I  have  a 
daughter  in  her  service  who  reported  it)  that  she  met  the 
Queen  at  Wanstead  with  five  hundred  horse,  and  the 
Queen  (tho'  some  say  they  be  much  divided)  took  her 
hand,  call'd  her  sweet  sister,  and  kiss'd  not  her  alone, 
but  all  the  ladies  of  her  following. 


12  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Second  Gentleman. 

Ay,  that  was  in  her  hour  of  joy,  there  will  be  plenty 
to  sunder  and  unsister  them  again ;  this  Gardiner  for 
one,  who  is  to  be  made  Lord  Chancellor,  and  will 
pounce  like  a  wild  beast  out  of  his  cage  to  worry 
Cranmer. 

First  Gentleman. 

And  furthermore,  my  daughter  said  that  when  there 
rose  a  talk  of  the  late  rebellion,  she  spoke  even  of 
Northumberland  pitifully,  and  of  the  good  Lady  Jane  as 
a  poor  innocent  child  who  had  but  obeyed  her  father ; 
and  furthermore,  she  said  that  no  one  in  her  time  should 
be  burnt  for  heresy. 

Second  Gentleman. 
Well,  sir,  I  look  for  happy  times. 

First  Gentleman. 

There  is  but  one  thing  against  them.  I  know  not  if 
you  know. 

Second  Gentleman. 

I  suppose  you  touch  upon  the  rumor  that  Charles, 
the  master  of  the  world,  has  offer'd  her  his  son  Philip, 
the  Pope  and  the  Devil.     I  trust  it  is  but  a  rumor. 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  13 

First  Gentleman. 

She  is  going  now  to  the  Tower  to  loose  the  prisoners 
there,  and  among  them  Courtenay,  to  be  made  Earl  of 
Devon,  of  royal  blood,  of  splendid  feature,  whom  the 
council  and  all  her  people  wish  her  to  marry.  May  it 
be  so,  for  we  are  many  of  us  Catholics,  but  few  Papists, 
and  the  Hot  Gospellers  will  go  mad  upon  it. 

Second  Gentleman. 

Was  she  not  betroth'd  in  her  babyhood  to  the  Great 
Emperor  himself  ? 

First  Gentleman. 
Ay,  but  he's  too  old. 

Second  Gentleman. 

And  again  to  her  cousin  Reginald  Pole,  now  Cardi- 
nal, but  I  hear  that  he  too  is  full  of  aches  and  broken 
before  his  day. 

First  Gentleman. 

O,  the  Pope  could  dispense  with  his  Cardinalate,  arid 
his  achage,  and  his  breakage,  if  that  were  all :  but  will 
you  not  follow  the  procession  ? 


14  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Second  Gentleman. 
No  ;  I  have  seen  enough  for  this  day. 

First  Gentleman. 

Well,  I  shall  follow ;  if  I  can  get  near  enough  I  shall 
judge  with  my  own  eyes  whether  Her  Grace  incline  to 
this  splendid  scion  of  Plantagenet.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. —A  ROOM  IN  LAMBETH  PALACE. 

Cranmer. 

To  Strasburg,  Antwerp,  Frankfort,  Zurich,  Worms, 
Geneva,  Basle  —  our  Bishops  from  their  sees 
Or  fled,  they  say,  or  flying  —  Poinet,  Barlow, 
Bale,  Scory,  Coverdale  ;  besides  the  Deans 
Of  Christchurch,  Durham,  Exeter,  and  Wells  — 
Ailmer  and  Bullingham,  and  hundreds  more  ; 
So  they  report :  I  shall  be  left  alone. 
No  :  Hooper,  Ridley,  Latimer  will  not  fly. 

Enter  Peter  Martyr. 

Peter  Martyr. 
Fly,  Cranmer !  were  there  nothing  else,  your  name 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  15 

Stands  first  of  those  who  sign'd  the  Letters  Patent 
That  gave  her  royal  crown  to  Lady  Jane. 

Cranmer. 

Stand  first  it  may,  but  it  was  written  last : 
Those  that  are  now  her  Privy  Council,  sign'd 
Before  me  :  nay,  the  Judges  had  pronounced 
That  our  young  Edward  might  bequeath  the  crown 
Of  England,  putting  by  his  father's  will. 
Yet  I  stood  out,  till  Edward  sent  for  me. 
The  wan  boy-king,  with  his  fast-fading  eyes 
Fixt  hard  on  mine,  his  frail  transparent  hand, 
Damp  with  the  sweat  of  death,  and  griping  mine, 
Whisper'd  me,  if  I  loved  him,  not  to  yield 
His  Church  of  England  to  the  Papal  wolf 
And  Mary  ;  then  I  could  no  more  —  I  sign'd. 
Nay,  for  bare  shame  of  inconsistency, 
She  cannot  pass  her  traitor  council  by, 
To  make  me  headless. 

Peter  Martyr. 

That  might  be  forgiven. 
T  tell  you,  fly,  my  Lord.     You- do  not  own 
The  bodily  presence  in  the  Eucharist, 
Their  wafer  and  perpetual  sacrifice  : 
Your  creed  will  be  your  death. 


1 6  Qiieen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Cranmer. 

Step  after  step, 
Thro'  many  voices  crying  right  and  left, 
Have  I  climb'd  back  into  the  primal  church, 
And  stand  within  the  porch,  and  Christ  with  me  : 
My  flight  were  such  a  scandal  to  the  faith, 
The  downfall  of  so  many  simple  souls, 
I  dare  not  leave  my  post. 

Peter  Martyr. 

But  you  divorced 
Queen  Catharine  and  her  father;  hence,  her  hate 
Will  burn  till  you  are  burn'd. 

Cranmer. 

I  cannot  help  it. 
The  Canonists  and  Schoolmen  were  with  me. 
"  Thou  shalt  not  wed  thy  brother's  wife."  —  'Tis  written, 
"  They  shall  be  childless."     True,  Mary  was  born, 
But  France  would  not  accept  her  for  a  bride 
As  being  born  from  incest ;  and  this  wrought 
Upon  the  king  ;  and  child  by  child,  you  know, 
Were  momentary  sparkles  out  as  quick 
Almost  as  kindled  ;  and  he  brought  his  doubts 
And  fears  to  me.     Peter,  I'll  swear  for  him 
He  did  believe  the  bond  incestuous. 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  17 

But  wherefore  am  I  trenching  on  the  time 
That  should  already  have  seen  your  steps  a  mile 
From  me  and  Lambeth?     God  be  with  you !     Go. 

Peter  Martyr. 

Ah,  but  how  fierce  a  letter  you  wrote  against 
Their  superstition  when  they  slander'd  you 
For  setting  up  a  mass  at  Canterbury 
To  please  the  Queen. 


Cranmer. 
It  was  a  wheedling  monk 


Set  up  the  mass. 


Peter  Martyr. 

I  know  it,  my  good  Lord. 
But  you  so  bubbled  over  with  hot  terms 
Of  Satan,  liars,  blasphemy,  Antichrist, 
She  never  will  forgive  you.     Fly,  my  Lord,  fly ! 

Cranmer. 
I  wrote  it,  and  God  grant  me  power  to  burn  ! 

Peter  Martyr. 
They  have  given  me  a  safe  conduct :  for  all  that 


1 8  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

I  dare  not  stay.     I  fear,  I  fear,  I  see  you, 
Dear  friend,  for  the  last  time ;  farewell,  and  fly. 

Cranmer. 
Fly  and  farewell,  and  let  me  die  the  death. 

[Exit  Peter  Martyr. 

Enter  Old  Servant. 

O,  kind  and  gentle  master,  the  Queen's  Officers 
Are  here  in  force  to  take  you  to  the  Tower. 

Cranmer. 

Ay,  gentle  friend,  .admit  them.     I  will  go. 

I  thank  my  God  it  is  too  late  to  fly.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III.  — ST.   PAUL'S  CROSS. 

Father  Bourne  in  the  pulpit.  A  crowd.  Marchioness 
of  Exeter,  Courtenay.  The  Sieur  de  Noailles 
and  his  man  Roger  in  front  of  the  stage.     Hubbub. 

Noailles. 
Hast  thou  let  fall  those  papers  in  the  palace  ? 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  19 

Roger. 
Ay,  sir. 

Noailles. 
"  There  will  be  no  peace  for  Mary  till  Elizabeth  lose 
her  head." 

Roger. 
Ay,  sir. 

Noailles. 
And  the  other.     "  Long  live  Elizabeth  the  Queen." 

Roger. 
Ay,  sir ;  she  needs  must  tread  upon  them. 

Noailles. 

Well. 
These  beastly  swine  make  such  a  grunting  here, 
I  cannot  catch  what  father  Bourne  is  saying. 

Roger. 

Quiet  a  moment,  my  masters ;  hear  what  the  shaveling 
has  to  say  for  himself. 

Crowd. 
Hush  —  hear. 


20  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Bourne. 

—  and  so  this  unhappy  land,  long  divided  in  itself,  and 
sever'd  from  the  faith,  will  return  into  the  one  true 
fold,  seeing  that  our  gracious  Virgin  Queen  hath  — 

Crowd. 
No  pope !  no  pope ! 

Roger  (to  those  about  him,  mimicking  Bourne). 

—  hath  sent  for  the  holy  legate  of  the  holy  father  the 
Pope,  Cardinal  Pole,  to  give  us  all  that  holy  absolution 
which  — 

First  Citizen. 
Old  Bourne  to  the  life  ! 

Second  Citizen. 
Holy  absolution  !  holy  Inquisition  ! 

Third  Citizen. 
Down  with  the  Papist.  [Hubbub. 

Bourne. 

—  and  now  that  your  good  bishop,  Bonner,  who  hath 
lain  so  long  under  bonds  for  the  faith  —  [Hubbub, 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  21 

NOAILLES. 

Friend  Roger,  steal  thou  in  among  the  crowd, 
And  get  the  swine  to  shout  Elizabeth. 
Yon  gray  old  Gospeller,  sour  as  midwinter, 
Begin  with  him. 

Roger  {goes). 
By  the  mass,  old  friend,  we'll  have  no   pope  here 
while  the  Lady  Elizabeth  lives. 

Gospeller. 
Art  thou  of  the  true  faith,  fellow,  that  swearest  by 
the  mass  ? 

Roger. 
Ay,  that  am  I,  new  converted,  but  the  old  leaven 
sticks  to  my  tongue  yet. 

First  Citizen. 
He  says  right ;  by  the  mass  we'll  have  no  mass  here. 

Voices  of  the  Crowd. 
Peace  !  hear  him  ;  let  his  own  words  damn  the  Papist. 
From  thine  own  mouth  I  judge  thee  —  tear  him  down. 

Bourne. 
—  and  since  our  Gracious  Queen,  let  me  call  her  our 


22  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

second  Virgin  Mary,  hath  begun  to  re-edify  the  true 
temple  — 

First  Citizen. 

Virgin  Mary  !  we'll  have  no  virgins  here  —  we'll  have 
the  Lady  Elizabeth ! 

[Swords  are  drawn,  a  knife  is  hurled,  and  sticks 
in  the  pulpit.  The  mob  throng  to  the  pulp-it 
stairs. 

Marchioness  of  Exeter. 

Son  Courtenay,  wilt  thou  see  the  holy  father 
Murder'd  before  thy  face  ?  up,  son,  and  save  him  ! 
They  love  thee,  and  thou  canst  not  come  to  harm. 

Courtenay  {in  the  pulpit). 

Shame,  shame,  my  masters  !  are  you  English-born, 
And  set  yourselves  by  hundreds  against  one  ? 

Crowd. 
A  Courtenay  !  a  Courtenay  ! 

\A  train  of  Spanish  servants  crosses  at  the  back  *f 
the  stage. 

Noailles. 
These  birds  of  passage  come  before  their  time  : 
Stave  off  the  crowd  upon  the  Spaniard  there. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  23 

Roger. 

My  masters,  yonder 's  fatter  game  for  you 
Than  this  old  gaping  gurgoyle  :  look  you  there  — 
The  Prince  of  Spain  coming  to  wed  our  Queen ! 
After  him,  boys  !  and  pelt  him  from  the  city. 

\They  seize  stones  and  follow   the   Spaniards. 

Exeunt  o?i  the  other  side  Marchioness  of 

Exeter  a?id  Attendants. 

Noailles  {to  Roger). 
Stand  from  me.     If  Elizabeth  lose  her  head  — 
That  makes  for  France. 
And  if  her  people,  anger'd  thereupon, 
Arise  against  her  and  dethrone  the  Queen  — 
That  makes  for  France. 
And  if  I  breed  confusion  anyway  — 
That  makes  for  France. 

Good-day,  my  Lord  of  Devon  ; 
A  bold  heart  yours  to  beard  that  raging  mob ! 

COURTENAY. 

My  mother  said,  Go  up  ;  and  up  I  went. 
I  knew  they  would  not  do  me  any  wrong, 
For  I  am  mighty  popular  with  them,  Noailles. 

Noailles. 
You  look'd  a  king. 


24  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

COURTENAY. 

Why  not  ?  I  am  king's  blood. 

NOAILLES. 

And  in  the  whirl  of  change  may  come  to  be  one. 

COURTENAY. 

Ah! 

NOAILLES. 

But  does  your  gracious  Queen  entreat  you  king-like  ? 

COURTENAY. 

'Fore  God,  I  think  she  entreats  me  like  a  child. 

NOAILLES. 

You've  but  a  dull  life  in  this  maiden  court, 
I  fear,  my  Lord. 

COURTENAY. 

A  life  of  nods  and  yawns. 

Noailles. 

So  you  would  honor  my  poor  house  to-night, 
We  might  enliven  you.   •  Divers  honest  fellows, 
The  Duke  of  Suffolk  lately  freed  from  prison. 


scene  in.]  Qiceeiz  Mary.  25 

Sir  Peter  Carew  and  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt, 

Sir  Thomas  Stafford,  and  some  more  —  we  play. 

COURTENAY. 

At  what  ? 

NOAILLES. 

The  Game  of  Chess. 

COURTENAY. 

The  Game  of  Chess  1 
I  can  play  well,  and  I  shall  beat  you  there. 

Noatlles. 
Ay,  but  we  play  with  Henry,  King  of  France, 
And  certain  of  his  court. 

His  Highness  makes  his  moves  across  the  channel, 
We  answer  him  with  ours,  and  there  are  messengers 
That  go  between  us. 

Courtenay. 
Why,  such  a  game,  sir,  were  whole  years  a  playing. 

Noailles. 
Nay ;  not  so  long  I  trust.     That  all  depends 
Upon  the  skill  and  swiftness  of  the  players. 


26  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 


COURTENAY. 


The  King  is  skilful  at  it  ? 


NOAILLES. 

Very,  my  Lord. 

COURTENAY. 

And  the  stakes  high  ? 

Noailles. 

But  not  beyond  your  means. 

COURTENAY. 

Well,  I'm  the  first  of  players.     I  shall  win. 

Noailles. 
With  our  advice  and  in  our  company, 
And  so  you  well  attend  to  the  king's  moves, 
I  think  you  may. 

COURTENAY. 

When  do  you  meet  ? 

Noailles. 

To-night. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  27 

COURTENAY     (aside). 

I  will  be  there ;  the  fellow's  at  his  tricks  — 
Deep  —  I  shall  fathom  him.     (Aioud.)     Good-morning, 
N.oailles.  [Exit  Courtenay. 

Noailles. 

Good-day,  my  Lord.   •  Strange  game  of  chess  !  a  King 

That  with  her  own  pawns  plays  against  a  Queen, 

Whose  play  is  all  to  find  herself  a  King. 

Ay  j  but  this  fine  blue-blooded  Courtenay  seems 

Too  princely  for  a  pawn.     Call  him  a  Knight, 

That,  with  an  ass's  not  an  horse's  head, 

Skips  every  way,  from  levity  or  from  fear. 

Well,  we  shall  use  him  somehow,  so  that  Gardiner 

And  Simon  Renard  spy  not  out  our  game 

Too  early.     Roger,  thinkest  thou  that  any  one 

Suspected  thee  to  be  my  man  ? 

Roger. 

Not  one,  sir. 

Noailles. 

No  !  the  disguise  was  perfect.     Let's  away ! 

[Exeunt. 


28  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 


SCENE    IV.  — LONDON.      A    ROOM    IN    THE 

PALACE. 

Elizabeth.    Enter  Courtenay. 

COURTENAY. 

So  yet  am  I, 

Unless  my  friends  and  mirrors  lie  to  me, 

A  goodlier-looking  fellow  than  this  Philip. 

Pah! 

The  Queen  is  ill  advised  :  shall  I  turn  traitor  ? 

They've  almost  talk'd  me  into  :  yet  the  word 

Affrights  me  somewhat ;  to  be  such  a  one 

As  Harry  Bolingbroke  hath  a  lure  in  it. 

Good  now,  my  Lady  Queen,  tho'  by  your  age, 

And  by  your  looks  you  are  not  worth  the  having, 

Yet  by  your  crown  you  are. 

[Seeing  Elizabeth. 

The  Princess  there  ? 
If  I  tried  her  and  la  —  she's  amorous. 
Have  we  not  heard  of  her  in  Edward's  time, 
Her  freaks  and  frolics  with  the  late  Lord  Admiral  ? 
I  do  believe  she'd  yield.     I  should  be  still 
A  party  in  the  state ;  and  then,  who  knows  — 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  29 

Elizabeth. 
What  are  you  musing  on,  my  Lord  of  Devon  ? 

Courtenav. 
Has  not  the  Queen  — 

Elizabeth. 

Done  what,  Sir  ? 

COURTENAY. 

—  Made  you  follow 
The  Lady  Suffolk  and  the  Lady  Lennox. 
You, 
The  heir  presumptive. 

Elizabeth. 

Why  do  you  ask  ?  you  know  it. 

Courtenay. 
You  needs  must  bear  it  hardly. 

Elizabeth. 

No,  indeed ! 
[  am  utterly  submissive  to  the  Queen. 


30  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

COURTENAY. 

Well,  I  was  musing  upon  that ;   the  Queen 

Is  both  my  foe  and  yours  :  we  should  be  friends. 

Elizabeth. 
My  Lord,  the  hatred  of  another  to  us 
Is  no  true  bond  of  friendship. 

COURTENAY. 

Might  it  not 
Be  the  rough  preface  of  some  closer  bond  ? 

Elizabeth. 
My  Lord,  you  late  were  loosed  from  out  the  Tower, 
Where,  like  a  butterfly  in  a  chrysalis, 
You  spent  your  life  ;  that  broken,  out  you  flutter 
Thro'  the  new  world,  go  zigzag,  now  would  settle 
Upon  this  flower,  now  that ;  but  all  things  here 
At  court  are  known  ;   you  have  solicited 
The  Queen,  and  been  rejected. 

COURTENAY. 

Flower,  she ! 
Half  faded !  but  you,  cousin,  are  fresh  and  sweet 
As  the  first  flower  no  bee  has  ever  tried. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary  31 

Elizabeth. 

Are  you  the  bee  to  try  me  ?  why,  but  now 
I  called  you  butterfly. 

COURTENAY. 

You  did  me  wrong, 
1  love  not  to  be  called  a  butterfly  : 
Why  do  you  call  me  butterfly  ? 

Elizabeth. 
Why  do  you  go  so  gay  then  ? 

Courtenay. 

Velvet  and  gold. 
This  dress  was  made  me  as  the  Earl  of  Devon 
To  take  my  seat  in  ;  looks  it  not  right  royal , 

Elizabeth. 
So  royal  that  the  Queen  forbade  you  wearing  it. 

Courtenay. 
I  wear  it  then  to  spite  her. 

Elizabeth. 

My  Lord,  my  Lord  ; 


32  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

I  see  you  in  the  Tower  again.     Her  Majesty 

Hears  you  affect  the  Prince  —  prelates  kneel  to  you.  — 

COURTENAY. 

I  am  the  noblest  blood  in  Europe,  Madam, 
A  Courtenay  of  Devon,  and  her  cousin. 

Elizabeth. 
She  hears  you  make  your  boast  that  after  all 
She  means  to  wed  you.     Folly,  my  good  Lord. 

Courtenay. 
How  folly  ?  a  great  party  in  the  state 
Wills  me  to  wed  her. 

Elizabeth. 
Failing  her,  my  Lord, 
Doth  not  as  great  a  party  in  the  state 
Will  you  to  wed  me  ? 

Courtenav. 
Even  so,  fair  lady. 

Elizabeth. 
You  know  to  flatter  ladies. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  33 

COURTENAY. 

Nay,  I  meant 
True  matters  of  the  heart. 

Elizabeth. 

My  heart,  my  Lord, 
Is  no  great  party  in  the  state  as  yet. 

COURTENAY. 

Great,  said  you  ?  nay,  you  shall  be  great.     I  love  you, 
Lay  my  life  in  your  hands.     Can  you  be  close  ? 

Elizabeth. 
Can  you,  my  Lord  \ 

COURTENAY. 

Close  as  a  miser's  casket. 
Listen : 

The  King  of  France,  Noailles  the  Ambassador, 
The  Duke  of  Suffolk  and. Sir  Peter  Carew, 
Sir  Thomas  Wyatt,  I  myself,  some  others, 
Have  sworn  this  Spanish  marriage  shall  not  be. 
If  Mary  will  not  hear  us  — well  —  conjecture  — 
Were  I  in  Devon  with  my  wedded  bride, 

3 


34  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

The  people  there  so  worship  me  —  Your  ear ; 
You  shall  be  Queen. 

Elizabeth. 

You  speak  too  low,  my  Lord  ; 
I  cannot  hear  you. 

COURTENAY. 

I'll  repeat  it. 

Elizabeth. 

No! 
Stand  farther  off,  or  you  may  lose  your  head. 

COURTENAY. 

I  have  a  head  to  lose  for  your  sweet  sake. 

Elizabeth. 

Have  you,  my  Lord  ?     Best  keep  it  for  your  own. 

Nay,  pout  not,  cousin. 

Not  many  friends  are  mine,  except  indeed 

Among  the  many.     I  believe  you  mine  ; 

And  so  you  may  continue  mine,  farewell, 

And  that  at  once. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  35 

Enter  Mary,  behind. 

Mary. 
Whispering  —  leagued  together 
To  bar  me  from  my  Philip. 

COURTENAY. 

Pray  —  consider  — 

Elizabeth  (seeing  the  Queen). 

Well,  that's  a  noble  horse  of  yours,  my  Lord. 
I  trust  that  he  will  carry  you  well  to-day, 
And  heal  your  headache. 

COURTENAY. 

You  are  wild ;  what  headache  ? 
Heartache,  perchance  ;  not  headache. 

Elizabeth  (aside  to  Courtenay). 

Are  you  blind  ? 
[Courtenay  sees  the  Queen  and  exit.     Exit  Mary. 

Enter  Lord  William  Howard. 

Howard. 

Was  that  my  Lord  of  Devon  ?  do  not  you 
Be  seen  in  corners  with  my  Lord  of  Devon. 
He  hath  fallen  out  of  favor  with  the  Queen. 


36  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

She  fears  the  Lords  may  side  with  you  and  him 
Against  her  marriage  ;  therefore  is  he  dangerous. 
And  if  this  Prince  of  fluff  and  feather  come 
To  woo  you,  niece,  he  is  dangerous  every  way. 


Elizabeth. 
Not  very  dangerous  that  way,  my  good  uncle. 

Howard. 

But  your  own  state  is  full  of  danger  here. 
The  disaffected,  heretics,  reformers, 
Look  to  you  as  the  one  to  crown  their  ends. 
Mix  not  yourself  with  any  plot  I  pray  you ; 
Nay,  if  by  chance  you  hear  of  any  such, 
Speak  not  thereof  —  no,  not  to  your  best  friend, 
Lest  you  should  be  confounded  with  it.     Still  — 
Perinde  ac  cadaver —  as  the  priest  says, 
You  know  your  Latin  —  quiet  as  a  dead  body. 
What  was  my  Lord  of  Devon  telling  you  ? 

Elizabeth. 
Whether  he  told  me  any  thing  or  not, 
I  follow  your  good  counsel,  gracious  uncle. 
Quiet  as  a  dead  body. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  37 

Howard. 

You  do  right:  well. 
I  do  not  care  to  know  ;  but  this  I  charge  you, 
Tell  Courtenay  nothing.     The  Lord  Chancellor 
(I  count  it  as  a  kind  of  virtue  in  him, 
He  hath  not  many),  as  a  mastiff  dog 
May  love  a  puppy  cur  for  no  more  reason 
Than  that  the  twain  have  been  tied  up  together, 
Thus  Gardiner  —  for  the  two  were  fellow-prisoners 
So  many  years  in  yon  accursed  Tower  — 
Hath  taken  to  this  Courtenay.     Look  to  it,  niece, 
He  hath  no  fence  when  Gardiner  questions  him  ; 
All  oozes  out ;  yet  him  —  because  they  know  him 
The  last  White  Rose,  the  last  Plantagenet 
(Nay,  there  is  Cardinal  Pole,  too),  the  people 
Claim  as  their  natural  leader  —  ay,  some  say, 
That  you  shall  marry  him,  make  him  King  belike. 

Elizabeth. 
Do  they  say  so,  good  uncle  ? 

Howard. 

Ay,  good  niece ! 
You  should  be  plain  and  open  with  me,  niece. 
You  should  not  play  upon  me. 


38  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Elizabeth. 

No,  good  uncle. 

Enter  Gardiner. 

Gardiner. 
The  Queen  would  see  your  Grace  upon  the  moment. 

Elizabeth. 
Why,  my  lord  Bishop  ? 

Gardiner. 

I  think  she  means  to  counsel  your  withdrawing 
To  Ashridge,  or  some  other  country  house. 

Elizabeth. 
Why,  my  lord  Bishop  ? 

Gardiner. 
I  do  but  bring  the  message,  know  no  more. 
Your  Grace  will  hear  her  reasons  from  herself. 

Elizabeth. 

'Tis  mine  own  wish  fulfill'd  before  the  word 
Was  spoken,  for  in  truth  I  had  meant  to  crav? 
Permission  of  her  Highness  to  retire 
To  Ashridge,  and  pursue  my  studies  there. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  39 

Gardiner. 

Madam,  to  have  the  wish  before  the  word 
Is  man's  good  Faiiy  —  and  the  Queen  is  yours. 
I  left  her  with  rich  jewels  in  her  hand, 
Whereof  'tis  like  enough  she  means  to  make 
A  farewell  present  to  your  Grace. 

Elizabeth. 

My  Lord, 
I  have  the  jewel  of  a  loyal  heart. 

Gardiner. 

I  doubt  it  not,  Madam,  most  loyal. 

[Bows  low  and  exit. 

Howard. 

See, 
This  comes  of  parleying  with  my  Lord  of  Devon. 
Well,  well,  you  must  obey  ;  and  I  myself 
Believe  it  will  be  better  for  your  welfare. 
Your  time  will  come. 

Elizabeth. 

I  think  my  time  will  come. 
Uncle, 
I  am  of  sovereign  nature,  that  I  know, 


40  Queen  Mary.  [act  l 

Not  to  be  quell'd  ;  and  I  have  felt  within  me 

Stirrings  of  some  great  doom  when  God's  just  hour 

Peals  —  but  this  fierce  old  Gardiner  —  his  big  baldness, 

That  irritable  forelock  which  he  rubs, 

His  buzzard  beak  and  deep-incavern'd  eyes 

Half  fright  me. 

Howard. 

You've  a  bold  heart ;  keep  it  so. 
He  cannot  touch  you  save  that  you  turn  traitor ; 
And  so  take  heed  I  pray  you  —  you  are  one 
Who  love  that  men  should  smile  upon  you,  niece. 
They'd  smile  you  into  treason  —  some  of  them. 

Elizabeth. 

I  spy  the  rock  beneath  the  smiling  sea. 
But  if  this  Philip,  the  proud  Catholic  prince, 
And  this  bald  priest,  and  she  that  hates  me,  seek 
In  that  lone  house,  to  practise  on  my  life, 
By  poison,  fire,  shot,  stab  — 

Howard. 

They  will  not,  niece. 
Mine  is  the  fleet  and  all  the  power  at  sea  — 
Or  will  be  in  a  moment.     If  they  dared 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  41 

To  harm  you,  I  would  blow  this  Philip  and  all 
Your  trouble  to  the  dogstar  and  the  devil. 

Elizabeth. 
To  the  Pleiads,  uncle  ;  they  have  lost  a  sister. 

Howard. 

But  why  say  that  ?  what  have  you  done  to  lose  her  ? 
Come,  come,  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  Queen.  [Exeunt 


SCENE  V.  — A  ROOM   IN  THE  PALACE. 

Mary  with  Philip's  miniature.     Alice. 

Mary  (kissing  the  miniature). 
Most  goodly,  Kinglike,  and  an  emperor's  son,  — 
A  king  to  be,  —  is  he  not  noble,  girl  ? 

Alice. 
Goodly  enough,  your  Grace,  and  yet,  methinks, 
I  have  seen  goodlier. 

Mary. 

Ay  ;  some  waxen  dob 
Thy  baby  eyes  have  rested  on,  belike  ; 


42  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

All  red  and  white,  the  fashion  of  our  land. 
But  my  good  mother  came  (God  rest  her  soul) 
Of  Spain,  and  I  am  Spanish  in  myself, 
And  in  my  likings. 

Alice. 

By  your  Grace's  leave 
Your  royal  mother  came  of  Spain,  but  took 
To  the  English  red  and  white.     Your  royal  father 
(For  so  they  say)  was  all  pure  lily  and  rose 
In  his  youth,  and  like  a  lady. 

Mary. 

O,  just  God ! 
Sweet  mother,  you  had  time  and  cause  enough 
To  sicken  of  his  lilies  and  his  roses. 
Cast  off,  betray'd,  defamed,  divorced,  forlorn  ! 
And  then  the  king  —  that  traitor  past  forgiveness, 
The  false  archbishop  fawning  on  him,  married 
The  mother  of  Elizabeth  —  a  heretic 
Ev'n  as  she  is ;  but  God  hath  sent  me  here 
To  take  such  order  with  all  heretics 
That  it  shall  be,  before  I  die,  as  tho' 
My  father  and  my  brother  had  not  lived. 
What  wast  thou  saying  of  this  Lady  Jane, 
Now  in  the  Tower  ? 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  43 

Alice. 

Why,  Madam,  she  was  passing 
Some  chapel  clown  in  Essex,  and  with  her 
Lady  Anne  Wharton,  and  the  Lady  Anne 
Bow'd  to  the  Pyx ;  but  Lady  Jane  stood  up 
Stiff  as  the  very  backbone  of  heresy. 
And  wherefore  bow  ye  not,  says  Lady  Anne, 
To  him  within  there  who  made  Heaven  and  Earth  ? 
I  cah  not  and  I  dare  not,  tell  your  Grace 
What  Lady  Jane  replied. 

Mary. 

But  I  will  have  it. 

Alice. 

She  said  —  pray  pardon  me,  and  pity  her  — 
She  hath  hearken'd  evil  counsel  —  ah  !  she  said, 
The  baker  made  him. 

Mary. 

Monstrous  !  blasphemous ! 
She  ought  to  burn.     Hence,  thou  {Exit  Alice).    No  — 

being  traitor 
Her  head  will  fall :  shall  it  ?  she  is  but  a  child. 
We  do  not  kill  the  child  for  doing  that 


44  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

His  father  whipt  him  into  doing  —  a  head 

So  full  of  grace  and  beauty  !   would  that  mine 

Were  half  as  gracious  !     O,  my  lord  to  be, 

My  love,  for  thy  sake  only. 

lam  eleven  years  older  than  he  is. 

But  will  he  care  for  that  ? 

No,  by  the  holy  Virgin,  being  noble, 

But  love  me  only  :  then  the  bastard  sprout, 

My  sister,  is  far  fairer  than  myself. 

Will  he  be  drawn  to  her  ? 

No,  being  of  the  true  faith  with  myself. 

Paget  is  for  him  —  for  to  wed  with  Spain 

Would  treble  England  — Gardiner  is  against  him  ; 

The  Council,  people,  Parliament  against  him ; 

But  I  will  have  him !     My  hard  father  hated  me  ; 

My  brother  rather  hated  me  than  loved  ; 

My  sister  cowers  and  hates  me.     Holy  Virgin, 

Plead  with  thy  blessed  Son  ;  grant  me  my  prayer  ; 

Give  me  my  Philip  ;  and  we  two  will  lead 

The  living  waters  of  the  Faith  again 

Back  thro'  their  widow'd  channel  here,  and  watch 

The  parch'd  banks  rolling  incense,  as  of  old, 

To  heaven,  and  kindled  with  the  palms  of  Christ ! 

Enter  Usher. 
Who  waits,  sir? 


scene  v."l  Queen  Mary.  45 

Usher. 
Madam,  the  Lord  Chancellor. 

Mary. 
Bid  him  come  in.     {Enter  Gardiner.)    Good-morning, 
my  good  Lord.  [Exit  Usher, 

Gardiner. 

That  every  morning  of  your  Majesty 

May  be  most  good,  is  every  morning's  prayer 

Of  your  most  loyal  subject,  Stephen  Gardiner. 

Mary. 
Come  you  to  tell  me  this,  my  Lord  ? 

Gardiner. 

And  more. 
Your  people  have  begun  to  learn  your  worth. 
Your  pious  wish  to  pay  King  Edward's  debts, 
Your  lavish  household  curb'd,  and  the  remission 
Of  half  that  subsidy  levied  on  the  people, 
Make  all  tongues  praise  and  all  hearts  beat  for  you. 
I'd  have  you  yet  more  loved  :  the  realm  is  poor, 
The  exchequer  at  neap-ebb  :  we  might  withdraw 
Part  of  our  garrison  at  Calais. 


46  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Mary. 

Calais  ! 
Our  one  point  on  the  main,  the  gate  of  France ! 
I  am  Queen  of  England  ;  tak<;  mine  eyes,  mine  heart 
But  do  not  lose  me  Calais. 

Gardiner. 

Do  not  fear  it. 
Of  that  hereafter.     I  say  your  Grace  is  loved. 
That  I  may  keep  you  thus,  who  am  your  friend 
And  ever  faithful  counsellor,  might  I  speak  ? 

Mary. 

I  can  forespeak  your  speaking.     Would  I  marry 
Prince  Philip,  if  all  England  hate  him  ?     That  is 
Your  question,  and  I  front  it  with  another  : 
Is  it  England,  or  a  party  ?     Now,  your  answer. 

Gardiner. 

My  answer  is,  I  wear  beneath  my  dress 
A  shirt  of  mail :  my  house  hath  been  assaulted, 
And  when  I  walk  abroad,  the  populace, 
With  fingers  pointed  like  so  many  daggers, 
Stab  me  in  fancy,  hissing  Spain  and  Philip ; 
And  when  I  sleep,  a  hundred  men-at-arms 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  47 

Guard    my    poor  dreams    for   England.      Men  would 

murder  me, 
Because  they  think  me  favorer  of  this  marriage. 

Mary. 
A  .id  that  were  hard  upon  you,  my  Lord  Chancellor. 

Gardiner. 
But  our  young  Earl  of  Devon  — 

Mary. 

Earl  of  Devon  ? 
I  freed  him  from  the  Tower,  placed  him  at  Court  ; 
I  made  him  Earl  of  Devon,  and  —  the  fool — 
He  wrecks  his  health  and  wealth  on  courtesans, 
And  rolls  himself  in  carrion  like  a  dog. 

Gardiner. 
More  like  a  school-boy  that  hath  broken  bounds, 
Sickening  himself  with  sweets. 

Mary. 

I  will  not  hear  of  him. 
Good,  then,  they  will  revolt :  but  I  am  Tudor, 
And  shall  control  them. 


48  Queen  Alary.  [act  i. 

Gardiner. 

I  will  help  you,  Madam, 
Even  to  the  utmost.     All  the  church  is  grateful. 
You  have  ousted  the  mock  priest,  repulpited 
The  shepherd  of  St.  Peter,  raised  the  rood  again, 
And  brought  us  back  the  mass.     I  am  all  thanks 
To  God  and  to  your  Grace :  yet  I  know  well, 
Your  people,  and  I  go  with  them  so  far, 
Will  brook  nor  Pope  nor  Spaniard  here  to  play 
The  tyrant,  or  in  commonwealth  or  church. 

Mary  (showing  the  picture). 

Is  this  the  face  of  one  who  plays  the  tyrant  ? 
Peruse  it ;  is  it  not  goodly,  ay,  and  gentle  ? 

Gardiner. 

Madam,  methinks  a  cold  face  and  a  haughty. 
And  when  your  Highness  talks  of  Courtenay  — 
Ay,  true  —  a  goodly  one.     I  would  his  life 
Were  half  as  goodly  (aside). 

Mary. 

What  is  that  you  mutter  ? 

Gardiner. 
Oh,  Madam,  take  it  bluntly  ■;  many  Philip, 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  49 

And  be  stepmother  of  a  score  of  sons  ! 

The  prince  is  known  in  Spain,  in  Flanders,  ha  ! 

For  Philip  — 

Mary. 

You  offend  us  ;  you  may  leave  us. 
You  see  thro'  warping  glasses. 

Gardiner. 

If  your  Majesty  — 

Mary. 

I  have  sworn  upon  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ 
I'll  none  but  Philip. 

Gardiner. 

Hath  your  Grace  so  sworn  ? 

Mary. 
Ay,  Simon  Renard  knows  it. 

Gardiner. 

News  to  me ! 
It  then  remains  for  your  poor  Gardiner, 
60  you  still  care  to  trust  him  somewhat  less 
4 


50  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Than  Simon  Renard,  to  compose  the  event 

In  some  such  form  as  least  may  harm  your  Grace. 

Mary. 
I'll  have  the  scandal  sounded  to  the  mud. 
1  know  it  a  scandal. 

Gardiner. 
All  my  hope  is  now 
It  may  be  found  a  scandal. 

Mary. 

You  offend  us. 

Gardiner  {aside). 
These  princes  are  like  children,  must  be  physick'd, 
The  bitter  in  the  sweet.     I  have  lost  mine  office, 
It  may  be,  thro'  mine  honesty,  like  a  fool.  [Exit. 

Enter  Usher. 

Mary. 


Who  waits  ? 


Usher. 
The  Ambassador  from  France,  your  Grace. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  51 

Mary. 

Bid  him  come  in.     Good-morning,  Sir  de  Noailles. 

[Exit  Usher. 

Noailles  {entering). 
A  happy  morning  to  your  Majesty. 

Mary. 
And  I  should  some  time  have  a  happy  morning; 
I  have  had  none  yet.    What'says  the  King  your  master? 

Noailles. 

Madam,  my  master  hears  with  much  alarm, 

That  you  may  marry  Philip,  Prince  of  Spain  — 

Foreseeing,  with  whate'er  unwillingness, 

That  if  this  Philip  be  the  titular  king 

Of  England,  and  at  war  with  him,  your  Grace 

And  kingdom  will  be  suck'd  into  the  war, 

Ay,  tho'  you  long  for  peace  ;  wherefore,  my  master, 

If  but  to  prove  your  Majesty's  good  will, 

Would  fain  have  some  fresh  treaty  drawn  between  you. 

Mary. 

Why  some  fresh  treaty  ?  wherefore  should  I  do  it  ? 
Sir,  if  we  marry,  we  shall  still  maintain 
All  former  treaties  with  his  Majesty. 


52  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Our  royal  word  for  that !  and  your  good  master, 
Pray  God  he  do  not  be  the  first  to  break  them, 
Must  be  content  with  that ;  and  so,  farewell. 

Noailles  {going,  returns). 
I  would  your  answer  had  been  other,  Madam, 
For  I  foresee  dark  days. 

Mary. 

And  so  do  I,  sir  ; 

Your  master  works  against  me  in  the  dark. 
I  do  believe  he  holp  Northumberland 
Against  me. 

Noailles. 
Nay,  pure  fantasy,  your  Grace. 
Why  should  he  move  against  you  ? 

Mary. 

Will  you  hear  why  ? 
Mary  of  Scotland,  —  for  I  have  not  own'd 
My  sister,  and  I  will  not,  —  after  me 
Is  heir  of  England  ;  and  my  royal  father, 
To  make  the  crown  of  Scotland  one  with  ours, 
Had  mark'd  her  for  my  brother  Edward's  bride ; 
Ay,  but  your  king  stole  her  a  babe  from  Scotland 
In  order  to  betroth  her  to  your  Dauphin. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  53 

See  then  : 

Mary  of  Scotland,  married  to  your  Dauphin, 

Would  make  our  England,  France  ; 

Mary  of  England,  joining  hands  with  Spain, 

Would  be  too  strong  for  France. 

Yea,  were  there  issue  born  to  her,  Spain  and  we, 

One  crown,  might  rule  the  world.    There  lies  your  fear. 

That  is  your  drift.     You  play  at  hide  and  seek. 

Show  me  your  faces  ! 

Noailles. 

Madam,  I  am  amazed  : 
French,  I  must  needs  wish  all  good  things  for  France. 
That  must  be  pardon'd  me  ;  but  I  protest 
Your  Grace's  policy  hath  a  farther  flight 
Than  mine  into  the  future.     We  but  seek 
Some  settled  ground  for  peace  to  stand  upon. 

Mary. 

Well,  we  will  leave  all  this,  sir,  to  our  council. 
Have  you  seen  Philip  ever  ? 

Noailles. 

Only  once, 

Mary. 

Is  this  like  Philip  ? 


54  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

NOAILLES. 

Ay,  but  nobler-looking. 

Mary. 
Hath  he  the  large  ability  of  the  Emperor  ? 

NOAILLES. 

No,  surely. 

Mary. 

I  can  make  allowance  for  thee, 
Thou  speakest  of  the  enemy  of  thy  king. 

Noailles. 

Make  no  allowance  for  the  naked  truth. 
He  is  every  way  a  lesser  man  than  Charles ; 
Stone-hard,  ice-cold  —  no  dash  of  daring  in  him. 

Mary. 
If  cold,  his  life  is  pure. 

Noailles. 

Why  {smiling),  no,  indeed. 

Mary. 
Sayst  thou  ? 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  55 

NOAILLES. 

A  very  wanton  life  indeed  (smiling). 

Mary. 

Your  audience  is  concluded,  sir.  [Exit  Noailles 

You  cannot 
Learn  a  man's  nature  from  his  natural  foe. 

Enter  Usher. 
Who  waits? 

Usher. 

The  ambassador  of  Spain,  your  Grace. 

[Exit. 

Enter  Simon  Renard. 
Mary. 

Thou  art  ever  welcome,  Simon  Renard.     Hast  thou 
Brought  me  the  letter  which  thine  Emperor  promised 
Long  since,  a  formal  offer  of  the  hand 
Of  Philip? 

Renard. 
Nay,  your  Grace,  it  hath  not  reach'd  me. 
I  know  not  wherefore  —  some  mischance  of  flood, 
And  broken  bridge,  or  spavin'd  horse,  or  wave 
And  wind  at  their  old  battle  ;  he  must  have  written. 


56  Queen  Mary.  ^act  i. 

Mary. 
But  Philip  never  writes  me  one  poor  word, 
Which  in  his  absence  had  been  all  my  wealth. 
Strange  in  a  wooer ! 

Renard. 

Yet  I  know  the  Prince, 
So  your  king-parliament  suffer  him  to  land, 
Yearns  to  set  foot  upon  your  island  shore. 

Mary. 

God  change  the  pebble  which  his  kingly  foot 
First  presses  into  some  more  costly  stone 
Than  ever  blinded  eye.     I'll  have  one  mark  it 
And  bring  it  me.     I'll  have  it  burnish'd  firelike ; 
I'll  set  it  round  with  gold,  with  pearl,  with  diamond. 
Let  the  great  angel  of  the  church  come  with  him  • 
Stand  on  the  deck  and  spread  his  wings  for  sail ! 
God  lay  the  waves  and  strew  the  storms  at  sea, 
And  here  at  land  among  the  people.     O  Renard, 
I  am  much  beset,  I  am  almost  in  despair. 
Paget  is  ours.     Gardiner  perchance  is  ours  ; 
But  for  our  heretic  Parliament  — 

Renard. 

O  Madam, 
You  fly  your  thoughts  like  kites.     My  master,  Charles, 


scene  v  ]  Queen  Mary.  57 

Bade  you  go  softly  with  your  heretics  here, 
Until  your  throne  had  ceased  to  tremble.     Then 
Spit  them  like  larks  for  aught  I  care.     Besides, 
When  Henry  broke  the  carcass  of  your  church 
To  pieces,  there  were  many  wolves  among  you 
Who  dragg'd  the  scatter'd  limbs  into  their  den. 
The  Pope  would  have  you  make  them  render  these ; 
So  would  your  cousin,  Cardinal  Pole  ;  ill  counsel ! 
Phese  let  them  keep  at  present ;  stir  not  yet 
This  matter  of  the  Church  lands.     At  his  coming 
Your  star  will  rise. 

Mary. 
My  star  !  a  baleful  one. 
I  see  but  the  black  night,  and  hear  the  wolf. 

What  star  ? 

Renard. 

Your  star  will  be  your  princely  son, 
Heir  of  this  England  and  the  Netherlands  ! 
And  if  your  wolf  the  while  should  howl  for  more 
We'll  dust  him  from  a  bag  of  Spanish  gold. 
I  do  believe,  I  have  dusted  some  already, 
That,  soon  or  late,  your  parliament  is  ours. 

Mary. 

Why  do  they  talk  so  foully  of  your  Prince, 
Renard  ? 


58  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Renard. 

The  lot  of  Princes.     To  sit  high 
Is  to  be  lied  about. 

Mary. 
They  call  him  cold, 
Haughty,  ay,  worse. 

Renard. 

Why,  doubtless,  Philip  shows 
Some  of  the  bearing  of  your  blue  blood  —  still 
All  within  measure  —  nay,  it  well  becomes  him. 

Mary. 
Hath  he  the  large  ability  of  his  father  ? 

Renard. 
Nay,  some  believe  that  he  will  go  beyond  him. 

Mary. 
is  this  like  him  ? 

Renard.  I 

Ay,  somewhat ;  but  your  Philip 
Is  the  most  princelike  Prince  beneath  the  sun. 
This  is  a  daub  to  Philip. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  59 

Mary. 

Of  a  pure  life  ? 

Renard. 
As  an  angel  among  angels.     Yea,  by  Heaven, 
The  text  —  Your  Highness  knows  it,  "  Whosoever 
Looketh  after  a  woman,"  would  not  graze 
The  Prince  of  Spain.     You  are  happy  in  him  there. 
Chaste  as  your  grace  ! 

Mary. 
I  am  happy  in  him  there. 

Renard. 

And  would  be  altogether  happy,  Madam, 

So  that  your  sister  were  but  look'd  to  closer. 

You  have  sent  her  from  the  court,  but  then  she  goes, 

I  warrant,  not  to  hear  the  nightingales, 

But  hatch  you  some  new  treason  in  the  woods. 

Mary. 
We  have  our  spies  abroad  to  catch  her  tripping, 
And  then  if  caught,  to  the  lower. 

Renard. 

The  Tower  !  the  block. 


60  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

The  word  has  turn'd  your  Highness  pale ;  the  thing 
Was  no  such  scarecrow  in  your  father's  time. 
I  have  heard,  the  tongue  yet  quiver'd  with  the  jest 
When  the  head  leapt  —  so  common  !     I  do  think 
To  save  your  crown  that  it  must  come  to  this. 

Mary. 

I  love  her  not,  but  all  the  people  love  her, 
And  would  not  have  her  even  to  the  Tower. 

Renard. 

Not  yet ;  but  your  old  Traitors  of  the  Tower  — 
Why,  when  you  put  Northumberland  to  death, 
The  sentence  having  past  upon  them  all, 
Spared  you  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  Guildford  Dudley. 
Ev'n  that  young  girl  who  dared  to  wear  your  crown  ? 

Mary. 
Dared,  no,  not  that ;  the  child  obey'd  her  father. 
Spite  of  her  tears  her  father  forced  it  on  her. 

Renard. 
Good  Madam,  when  the  Roman  wish'd  to  reign, 
He  slew  not  him  alone  who  wore  the  purple, 
But  his  assessor  in  the  throne,  perchance 
A.  child  more  innocent  than  Lady  Jane. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  61 

Mary. 
I  am  English  Queen,  not  Roman  Emperor. 

Renard. 

Yet  ^oo  much  mercy  is  a  want  of  mercy, 
And  wastes  more  life.     Stamp  out  the  fire,  or  this 
Will  smoulder  and  re-flame,  and  burn  the  throne 
Where  you  should  sit  with  Philip :  he  will  not  come 
Till  she  be  gone. 

Mary. 

Indeed,  if  that  were  true  — 
But  I  must  say  farewell.     I  am  somewhat  faint 
With  our  long  talk.     Tho'  Queen,  I  am  not  Queen 
Of  mine  own  heart,  which  every  now  and  then 
Beats  me  half  dead  :  yet  stay,  this  golden  chain  — 
My  father  on  a  birthday  gave  it  me, 
And  I  have  broken  with  my  father  —  take 
And  wear  it  as  memorial  of  a  morning 
Which  found  me  full  of  foolish  doubts,  and  leaves  me 
As  hopeful. 

Renard  {aside). 

Whew  —  the  folly  of  all  follies 
Is  to  be  love-sick  for  a  shadow.     {Aloud)  Madam, 


62  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

This  chains  me  to  your  service,  not  with  gold, 
But  dearest  links  of  love.     Farewell,  and  trust  me, 
Philip  is  yours.  [Exit 

Mary. 
Mine  —  but  not  yet  all  mine. 

Enter  Usher. 

Usher. 
Your  Council  is  in  Session,  please  your  Majesty. 

Mary. 

Sir,  let  them  sit.     I  must  have  time  to  breathe. 

No,  say  I  come.  (Exit  Usher.)  I  won  by  boldness  once. 

The  Emperor  counsell'd  me  to  fly  to  Flanders. 

I  would  not ;  but  a  hundred  miles  I  rode, 

Sent  out  my  letters,  call'd  my  friends  together 

Struck  home  and  won. 

And  when  the  Council  would  not  crown  me  —  thought 

To  bind  me  first  by  oaths  I  could  not  keep, 

And  keep  with  Christ  and  conscience — was  it  boldness 

Or  weakness  that  won  there  ?  when  I  their  Queen, 

Cast  myself  down  upon  my  knees  before  them, 

And  those  hard  men  brake  into  woman  tears, 

Ev'n  Gardiner,  all  amazed,  and  in  that  passion 

Gave  me  my  Crown. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  63 

Enter  Alice. 

Girl  ;  hast  thou  ever  heard 
Slanders  against  Prince  Philip  in  our  Court  ? 

Alice. 
What  slanders  ?     I,  your  Grace  ;  no,  never. 


Nothing  ? 


Mary. 

Alice. 
Never,  your  Grace. 

Mary. 
See  that  you  neither  hear  them  nor  repeat ! 

Alice  {aside). 
Good  Lord !  but  I  have  heard  a  thousand  such. 
Ay,  and  repeated  them  as  often  —  mum  ! 
Why  comes  that  old  fox-Fleming  back  again  ? 

Enter  Renard. 

Renard. 
Madam,  I  scarce  had  left  your  Grace's  presence 
Before  I  chanced  upon  the  messenger 
Who  brings  that  letter  which  we  waited  for  — 


64  Queen  Mary.  [act  i. 

The  formal  offer  of  Prince  Philip's  hand. 
It  craves  an  instant  answer,  Ay  or  No  ? 

Mary. 

An  instant,  Ay  or  No  !  the  Council  sits. 
Give  it  me  quick. 

Alice  {stepping  before  her). 

Your  Highness  is  all  trembling. 

Mary. 
Make  way.  [Exit  into  the  Council  Chamber, 

Alice. 
O,  Master  Renard,  Master  Renard, 
If  you  have  falsely  painted  your  fine  Prince ; 
Praised,  where  you  should  have  blamed  him,  I  pray  God 
No  woman  ever  love  you,  Master  Renard. 
It  breaks  my  heart  to  hear  her  moan  at  night 
As  tho'  the  nightmare  never  left  her  bed. 

Renard. 
My  pretty  maiden,  tell  me,  did  you  ever 


*4igh  for  a  beard  ? 


Alice. 
That's  not  a  pretty  question. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  65 

Renard. 

Not  prettily  put  ?     I  mean,  my  pretty  maiden, 
A  pretty  man  for  such  a  pretty  maiden. 

Alice. 

My  Lord  of  Devon  is  a  pretty  man. 

I  hate  him.     Well,  but  if  I  have,  what  then  ? 

Renard. 

Then,  pretty  maiden,  you  should  know  that  whether 
A  wind  be  warm  or  cold,  it  serves  to  fan 
A  kindled  fire. 

Alice. 
According  to  the  song. 

"  His  friends  would  praise  him,  I  believed  'em, 
His  foes  would  blame  him,  and  I  scorned  'em, 

His  friends  —  as  Angels  I  received  'em, 
His  foes  —  The  Devil  had  suborn'd  'em." 

Renard. 

Peace,  pretty  maiden. 

I  hear  them  stirring  in  the  Council  Chamber. 
Lord  Paget's  "Ay"  is  sure  —  who  else  ?  and  yet, 
They  are  all  too  much  at  odds  to  close  at  once 
In  one  full  throated  No !     Her  Highness  comes. 
S 


66  Qiicen  Mary.  [act  i. 

Enter  Mary. 

Alice. 
How  deathly  pale !  —  a  chair,  your  Highness. 

[Bringing  one  to  the  Queen. 

Renard. 

Madam, 
The  Council? 

Mary. 

Ay  !  My  Philip  is  all  mine. 

[Sinks  into  chair,  half  fainting. 


Queen  Mary.  67 


ACT    II. 

SCENE   L—  ALLINGTON   CASTLE. 

Sir  Thomas  Wyatt. 
1  do  not  hear  from  Carew  or  the  Duke 
Of  Suffolk,  and  till  then  I  should  not  move. 
The  Duke  hath  gone  to  Leicester  ;  Carew  stirs 
In  Devon  :  that  fine  porcelain  Courtenay, 
Save  that  he  fears  he  might  be  crack'd  in  using, 
(I  have  known  a  semi-madman  in  my  time 
So  fancy-ridd'n)  should  be  in  Devon  too. 

Enter  William. 
News  abroad,  William  ? 

William. 
None  so  new,  Sir  Thomas,  and  none  so  old,  Sir 
Thomas.  No  new  news  that  Philip  comes  to  wed  Mary, 
no  old  news  that  all  men  hate  it.  Old  Sir  Thomas 
would  have  hated  it.  The  bells  are  ringing  at  Maid- 
stone.    Doesn't  your  worship  hear? 


68  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Wyatt. 

Ay,  for  the  Saints  are  come  to  reign  again. 
Most  like  it  is  a  Saint's-day.     There's  no  call 
As  yet  for  me  ;  so  in  this  pause,  before 
The  mine  be  fired,  it  were  a  pious  work 
To  string  my  father's  sonnets,  left  about 
Like  loosely-scatter'd  jewels,  in  fair  order, 
And  head  them  with  a  lamer  rhyme  of  mine, 
To  grace  his  memory. 


William.  • 

Ay,  why  not,  Sir  Thomas  ?  He  was  a  fine  courtier, 
he  j  Queen  Anne  loved  him.  All  the  women  loved 
him.  I  loved  him,  I  was  in  Spain  with  him.  I  couldn't 
eat  in  Spain,  I  couldn't  sleep  in  Spain.  I  hate  Spain, 
Sir  Thomas. 

Wyatt. 
But  thou  couldst  drink  in  Spain  if  I  remember. 


William. 

Sir  Thomas,  we  may  grant  the  wine.    Old  Sir  Thomas 
always  granted  the  wine. 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  69 

Wyatt. 
Hand  me  the  casket  with  my  father's  sonnets. 

William. 

Ay  —  sonnets  —  a  fine  courtier  of  the  old  Court,  old 
Sir  Thomas.  [Exit. 

Wyatt. 
Courtier  of  many  courts,  he  loved  the  more 
His  own  gray  towers,  plain  life  and  letter'd  peace, 
To  read  and  rhyme  in  solitary  fields, 
The  lark  above,  the  nightingale  below, 
And  answer  them  in  song.     The  Sire  begets 
Not  half  his  likeness  in  the  son.     I  fail 
Where  he  was  fullest :  yet  —  to  write  it  down. 

[He  writes. 

Re-enter  William. 

William. 

There  is  news,  there  is  news,  and  no  call  for  sonnet- 
sorting  now,  nor  for  sonnet-making  either,  but  ten 
thousand  men  on  Penenden  Heath  all  calling  after 
your  worship,  and  your  worship's  name  heard  into 
Maidstone  market,  and  your  worship  the  first  man  in 
Kent  and  Christendom,  for  the  world's  up,  and  your 
worship  a-top  of  it. 


?o 


Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 


Wyatt. 

Inverted  yEsop  —  mountain  out  of  mouse. 

Say  for  ten  thousand  ten  —  and  pothouse  knaves, 

Brain-dizzied  with  a  draught  of  morning  ale. 

Enter  Antony  Knyvett. 

William. 
Here's  Antony  Knyvett. 

Knyvett. 

Look  you,  Master  Wyatt, 
Tear  up  that  woman's  work  there. 

Wyatt. 

No  ;  not  these, 
Dumb  children  of  my  father,  that  will  speak 
When  I  and  thou  and  all  rebellions  lie 
Dead  bodies  without  voice.     Song  flies  you  know 


For  ages. 


Knyvett. 
Tut,  your  sonnet's  a  flying  ant, 


Wing'd  for  a  moment. 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  71. 

Wyatt. 
Well,  for  mine  own  work,    [tearing  the  paper, 
It  lies  there  in  six  pieces  at  your  feet ; 
For  all  that  I  can  carry  it  in  my  head. 

Knyvett. 
If  you  can  carry  your  head  upon  your  shoulders. 

Wyatt. 

I  fear  you  come  to  carry  it  off  my  shoulders, 
And  sonnet-making's  safer. 

Knyvett. 

Why,  good  Lord, 
Write  you  as  many  sonnets  as  you  will. 
Ay,  but  not  now ;  what,  have  you  eyes,  ears,  brains  ? 
This  Philip  and  the  black-faced  swarms  of  Spain, 
The  hardest,  cruellest  people  in  the  world, 
Come  locusting  upon  us,  eat  us  up, 
Confiscate  lands,  goods,  money  —  Wyatt,  Wyatt, 
Wake,  or  the  stout  old  island  will  become 
A  rotten  limb  of  Spain.     They  roar  for  you 
On  Penenden  Heath,  a  thousand  of  them  —  more  — 
All  arm'd,  waiting  a  leader ;  there's  no  glory 
Like  his  who  saves  his  country :  and  you  sit 


•j  2  Q?ceen  Mary.  [act  u. 

Sing-songing  here ;  but,  if  I'm  any  judge, 
By  God,  you  are  as  poor  a  poet,  Wyatt, 
As  a  good  soldier. 

Wyatt. 

You  as  poor  a  critic 
As  an  honest  friend  :  you  stroke  me  on  one  cheek, 
Buffet  the  other.     Come,  you  bluster,  Antony  ! 
You  kndw  I  know  all  this.     I  must  not  move 
Until  I  hear  from  Carew  and  the  Duke. 
I  fear  the  mine  is  fired  before  the  time. 

Knyvett  {showing  a  paper). 

But  here's  some  Hebrew.     Faith,  I  half  forgot  it. 
Look  ;  can  you  make  it  English  ?     A  strange  youth 
Suddenly  thrust  it  on  me,  whisper'd,  "  Wyatt," 
And  whisking  round  a  corner,  show'd  his  back 
Before  I  read  his  face. 

Wyatt. 
Ha  !  Courtenay's  cipher.     \Rcads. 

"  Sir  Peter  Carew  fled  to  France  :  it  is  thought  the 
Duke  will  be  taken.  I  am  with  you  still ;  but,  for 
appearance'  sake,  stay  with  the  Queen.  Gardiner  knows, 
but  the  Council  are  all  at  odds,  and  the  Queen  hath  no 
force  for  resistance.     Move,  if  you  move,  at  once." 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  7$ 

Is  Peter  Carew  flecl  ?     Is  the  Duke  taken  ? 

Down  scabbard,  and  out  sword !  and  let  Rebellion 

Roar  till  throne  rock,  and  crown  fall.     No  ;  not  that ; 

But  we  will  teach  Queen  Mary  how  to  reign. 

Who  are  those  that  shout  below  there  ? 

Knyvett. 

Why,  some  fifty 
That  follow'd  me  from  Penenden  Heath  in  hope 
To  hear  you  speak. 

Wyatt. 
Open  the  window,  Knyvett ; 
The  mine  is  fired,  and  I  will  speak  to  them. 

Men  of  Kent;  England  of  England;  you  that  have 
kept  your  old  customs  upright,  while  all  the  rest  of  Eng- 
land bow'd  theirs  to  the  Norman,  the  cause  that  hath 
brought  us  together  is  not  the  cause  of  a  county  or  a 
shire,  but  of  this  England,  in  whose  crown  our  Kent  is 
the  fairest  jewel.  Philip  shall  not  wed  Mary ;  and  ye 
have  called  me  to  be  your  leader.  I  know  Spain.  I 
have  been  there  with  my  father;  I  have  seen  them  in 
their  own  land  ;  have  marked  the  haughtiness  of  their 
nobles  ;  the  cruelty  of  their  priests.  If  this  man  many 
our  Queen,  however  the  Council  and  the  Commons  may 


74  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

fence  round  his  power  with  restriction,  he  will  be 
King,  King  of  England,  my  masters  ;  and  the  Queen, 
and  the  laws,  and  the  people,  his  slaves.  What  ?  shall 
we  have  Spain  on  the  throne  and  in  the  parliament ; 
Spain  in  the  pulpit  and  on  the  law-bench  ;  Spain  in  all 
the  great  offices  of  state  ;  Spain  in  our  ships,  in  our 
forts,  in  our  houses,  in  our  beds  ? 

Crowd. 
No  !  no  !  no  Spain. 

William. 

No  Spain  in  our  beds  —  that  were  "worse  than  all.  I 
have  been  there  with  old  Sir  Thomas,  and  the  beds 
I  know.     I  hate  Spain. 

A  Peasant. 

But,  Sir  Thomas,  must  we  levy  war  against  the 
Queen's  Grace  ? 

Wyatt. 
No,  my  friend  ;  war  for  the  Queen's  Grace  —  to  save 
her  from  herself  and  Philip  —  war  against  Spain.  And 
think  not  we  shall  be  alone  —  thousands  will  flock  to  us. 
The  Council,  the  Court  itself,  is  on  our  side.  The  Lore 
Chancellor  himself  is  on  our  side.  The  King  of  France 
\s  with  us  ;  the  King  of  Denmark  is  with  us  ;  the  world 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  75 

is  with  us  —  war  against  Spain  !  And  if  we  move  not 
now,  yet  it  will  be  known  that  we  have  moved ;  and  if 
Philip  come  to  be  King,  O,  my  God  !  the  rope,  the 
rack,  the  thumb-screw,  the  stake,  the  fire.  If  we  move 
not  now,  Spain  moves,  bribes  our  nobles  with  her  gold, 
and  creeps,  creeps  snake-like  about  our  legs  till  we 
cannot  move  at  all ;  and  ye  know,  my  masters,  that 
wherever  Spain  hath  ruled  she  hath  wither'd  all  beneath 
her.  Look  at  the  New  World  —  a  paradise  made  hell ; 
the  red  man,  that  good  helpless  creature,  starved, 
maim'd,  flogg'd,  flay'd,  burn'd,  boil'd,  buried  alive, 
worried  by  dogs ;  and  here,  nearer  home,  the  Nether- 
lands, Sicily,  Naples,  Lombardy.  I  say  no  more  —  only 
this,  their  lot  is  yours.  Forward  to  London  with  me  ! 
forward  to  London  !  If  ye  love  your  liberties  or  your 
skins,  forward  to  London  ! 

Crowd. 
Forward  to  London  !     A  Wyatt !  a  Wyatt ! 

Wyatt. 

But  first  to  Rochester,  to  take  the  guns 
From  out  the  vessels  lying  in  the  river. 
Then  on. 

A  Peasant. 

Ay,  but  I  fear  we  be  too  few,  Sir  Thomas. 


76  Queen  Alary.  [act  ii. 

Wyatt. 
Not  many  yet.     The  world  as  yet,  my  friend, 
Is  not  half-waked  ■  but  every  parish  tower 
Shall  clang  and  clash  alarum  as  we  pass, 
And  pour  along  the  land,  and  swoll'n  and  fed 
With  indraughts  and  side-currents,  in  full  force 
Roll  upon  London. 

Crowd. 
A  Wyatt !  a  Wyatt !     Forward  ! 

Knyvett. 
Wyatt,  shall  we  proclaim  Elizabeth  ? 

Wyatt. 
I'll  think  upon  it,  Knyvett. 

Knyvett. 

Or  Lady  Jane  ? 

Wyatt. 

No,  poor  soul ;  no. 

Ah,  gray  old  castle  of  Allington,  green  field 
Beside  the  brimming  Medway,  it  may  chance 
That  I  shall  never  look  upon  you  more. 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  77 

Knyvett. 
Come,  now,  you're  sonnetting  again. 

Wyatt. 

Not  I. 
I'll  have  my  head  set  higher  in  the  state ; 
Or  —  if  the  Lord  God  will  it  —  on  the  stake.     [Exeunt. 


SCENE   II.  — GUILDHALL. 

Sir  Thomas  White  (The  Lord  Mayor),  Lord  William 
Howard,  Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall,  Aldermen 
and  Citizens. 

White. 
I  trust  the  Queen  comes  hither  with  her  guards. 

Howard. 
Ay,  all  in  arms. 

[Several  of  the  Citizens  move  hastily  out  of  the  hall. 
Why  do  they  hurry  out  there  ? 

White. 

My  Lord,  cut  out  the  rotten  from  your  apple, 
Your  apple  eats  the  better.     Let  them  go. 


78  Queen  Mary.  [act  11. 

They  go  like  those  old  Pharisees  in  John 
Convicted  by  their  conscience,  arrant  cowards, 
Or  tamperers  with  that  treason  out  of  Kent. 
When  will  her  Grace  be  here  ? 

Howard. 

In  some  few  minutes. 
She  will  address  your  guilds  and  companies. 
I  have  striven  in  vain  to  raise  a  man  for  her. 
But  help  her  in  this  exigency,  make 
Your  city  loyal,  and  be  the  mightiest  man 
This  day  in  England. 

White. 

I  am  Thomas  White. 
Few  things  have  fail'd  to  which  I  set  my  will. 
I  do  my  most  and  best. 

Howard. 

You  know  that  after 
The  Captain  Brett,  who  went  with  your  train  bands 
To  fight  with  Wyatt,  had  gone  over  to  him 
With  all  his  men,  the  Queen  in  that  distress 
Sent  Cornwallis  and  Hastings  to  the  traitor, 
Feigning  to  treat  with  him  about  her  marriage  — 
Know  too  what  Wyatt  said. 


scene  II.]  Queen  Mary.  79 

White. 

He'd  sooner  be, 
While  this  same  marriage  question  was  being  argued, 
Trusted  than  trust  —  the  scoundrel  —  and  demanded 
Possession  of  her  person  and  the  Tower. 

Howard. 

And  four  of  her  poor  Council  too,  my  Lord, 
As  hostages. 

White. 

I  know  it.     What  do  and  say 
Your  Council  at  this  hour  ? 

Howard. 

I  will  trust  you. 
We  fling  ourselves  on  you,  my  Lord.     The  Council, 
The  parliament  as  well,  are  troubled  waters  ; 
And  yet  like  waters  of  the  fen  they  know  not 
Which  way  to  flow.     All  hangs  on  her  address, 
And  upon  you,  Lord  Mayor. 

White. 

How  look'd  the  city 
When  now  you  past  it  ?     Quiet  ? 


8o  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Howard. 

Like  our  Council, 

Your  city  is  divided.     As  we  past, 

Some  hail'd,  some  hiss'd  us.     There  were  citizens 

Stood  each  before  his  shut-up  booth,  and  look'd 

As  grim  and  grave  as  from  a  funeral. 

And  here  a  knot  of  ruffians  all  in  rags, 

With  execrating  execrable  eyes, 

Glared  at  the  citizen.     Here  was  a  young  mother, 

Her  face  on  flame,  her  red  hair  all  blown  back, 

She  shrilling  "  Wyatt,"  while  the  boy  she  held 

Mimick'd  and  piped  her  "  Wyatt,"  as  red  as  she 

In  hair  and  cheek  ;  and  almost  elbowing  her, 

So  close  they  stood,  another,  mute  as  death, 

And  white  as  her  own  milk  ;  her  babe  in  arms 

Had  felt  the  faltering  of  his  mother's  heart, 

And  look'd  as  bloodless.     Here  a  pious  Catholic, 

Mumbling  and  mixing  up  in  his  scared  prayers 

Heaven  and  earth's  Maries  ;  over  his  bow'd  shoulder 

Scowl'd  that  world-hated  and  world-hating  beast, 

A  haggard  Anabaptist.     Many  such  groups. 

The  names  of  Wyatt,  Elizabeth,  Courtenay, 

Nay  the  Queen's  right  to  reign  —  'fore  God,  the  rogues  — 

Were  freely  buzz'd  among  them.     So  I  say 

Your  city  is  divided,  and  I  fear 

One  scruple,  this  or  that  way,  of  success 


scene  II.]  Queen  Mary.  81 

Would  turn  it  thither.     Wherefore  now  the  Queen 
In  this  low  pulse  and  palsy  of  the  state, 
Bade  me  to  tell  you  that  she  counts  on  you 
And  on  myself  as  her  two  hands  ;  on  you, 
In  your  own  city,  as  her  right,  my  Lord, 
For  you  are  loyal. 

White. 
Am  I  Thomas  White  ? 
One  word  before  she  comes.     Elizabeth  — 
Her  name  is  much  abused  among  these  traitors. 
Where  is  she  ?     She  is  loved  by  all  of  us. 
I  scarce  have  heart  to  mingle  in  this  matter. 
If  she  should  be  mishandled  ? 

Howard. 

No  ;  she  shall  not. 
The  Queen  had  written  her  word  to  come  to  court : 
Methought  I  smelt  out  Renard  in  the  letter, 
And  fearing  for  her,  sent  a  secret  missive, 
Which  told  her  to  be  sick.     Happily  or  not, 
It  found  her  sick  indeed. 

White. 

God  send  her  well  ; 
Here  comes  her  Royal  Grace. 


82  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Enter  Guards,  Mary,  and  Gardiner.      Sir   Thomas 
White  leads  her  to  a  raised  seat  on  the  dais. 

White. 

I,  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  these  our  companies 
And  guilds  of  London,  gathered  here,  beseech 
Your  Highness  to  accept  our  lowliest  thanks 
For  your  most  princely  presence  ;  and  we  pray 
That  we,  your  true  and  loyal  citizens, 
From  your  own  royal  lips,  at  once  may  know 
The  wherefore  of  this  coming,  and  so  learn 
Your  Royal  will,  and  do  it.  —  I,  Lord  Mayor 
Of  London,  and  our  Guilds  and  Companies. 

Mary. 

In  mine  own  person  am  I  come  to  you, 

To  tell  you  what  indeed  ye  see  and  know, 

How  traitorously  these  rebels  out  of  Kent 

Have  made  strong  head  against  ourselves  and  you. 

They  would  not  have  me  wed  the  Prince  of  Spain  ; 

That  was  their  pretext  —  so  they  spake  at  first  — 

But  we  sent  divers  of  our  Council  to  them, 

And  by  their  answers  to  the  question  ask'd, 

It  doth  appear  this  marriage  is  the  least 

Of  all  their  quarrel. 

They  have  betrayed  the  treason  of  their  hearts : 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  3  3 

Seek  to  possess  our  person,  hold  our  Tower, 

Place  and  displace  our  councillors,  and  use 

Both  us  and  them  according  as  they  will. 

Now  what  am  I  ye  know  right  well  —  your  Queen  ; 

To  whom,  when  I  was  wedded  to  the  realm 

And  the  realm's  laws  (the  spousal  ring  whereof, 

Not  ever  to  be  laid  aside,  I  wear 

Upon  ihis  finger),  ye  did  promise  full 

Allegiance  and  obedience  to  the  death. 

Ye  know  my  father  was  the  rightful  heir 

Of  England,  and  his  right  came  down  to  me, 

Corroborate  by  your  acts  of  Parliament : 

And  as  ye  were  most  loving  unto  him, 

So  doubtless  will  ye  show  yourselves  to  me. 

Wherefore,  ye  will  not  brook  that  any  one 

Should  seize  our  person,  occupy  our  state, 

More  specially  a  traitor  so  presumptuous 

As  this  same  Wyatt,  who  hath  tamper'd  with 

A  public  ignorance,  and,  under  color 

Of  such  a  cause  as  hath  no  color,  seeks 

To  bend  the  laws  to  his  own  will,  and  yield 

Full  scope  to  persons  rascal  and  forlorn, 

To  make  free  spoil  and  havoc  of  your  goods. 

Now  as  your  Prince,  I  say, 

I,  that  was  never  mother,  cannot  tell 

How  mothers  love  their  children  ;  yet,  methinks, 


84  Queen  Mary.  [act 

A  prince  as  naturally  may  love  his  people 

As  these  their  children  ;  and  be  sure  your  Queen 

So  loves  you,  and  so  loving,  needs  must  deem 

This  love  by  you  return'd  as  heartily  ; 

And  thro'  this  common  knot  and  bond  of  love, 

Doubt  not  they  will  be  speedily  overthrown. 

As  to  this  marriage,  ye  shall  understand 

We  made  thereto  no  treaty  of  ourselves, 

And  set  no  foot  theretoward  unadvised 

Of  all  our  Privy  Council ;  furthermore, 

This  marriage  had  the  assent  of  those  to  whom 

The  king,  my  father,  did  commit  his  trust ; 

Who  not  alone  esteem'd  it  honorable, 

But  for  the  wealth  and  glory  of  our  realm, 

And  all  our  loving  subjects,  most  expedient. 

As  to  myself, 

I  am  not  so  set  on  wedlock  as  to  choose 

But  where  I  list,  nor  yet  so  amorous 

That  I  must  needs  be  husbanded  ;  I  thank  God, 

I  have  lived  a  virgin,  and  I  noway  doubt 

But  that  with  God's  grace,  I  can  live  so  still. 

Yet  if  it  might  please  God  that  I  should  leave 

Some  fruit  of  mine  own  body  after  me, 

To  be  your  king,  ye  would  rejoice  thereat, 

And  it  would  be  your  comfort,  as  I  trust  ; 

And  truly,  if  I  either  thought  or  knew 


scene  II.]  Queen  Mary.  85 

This  marriage  should  bring  loss  or  clanger  to  you, 

My  subjects,  or  impair  in  any  way 

This  royal  state  of  England,  I  would  never 

Consent  thereto,  nor  many  while  I  live  ; 

Moreover,  if  this  marriage  should  not  seem, 

Before  our  own  high  Court  of  Parliament, 

To  be  of  rich  advantage  to  our  realm, 

We  will  refrain,  and  not  alone  from  this, 

Likewise  from  any  other,  out  of  which 

Looms  the  least  chance  of  peril  to  our  realm. 

Wherefore  be  bold,  and  with  your  lawful  Prince 

Stand  fast  against  our  enemies  and  yours, 

And  fear  them  not.     I  fear  them  not.     My  Lord, 

I  leave  Lord  William  Howard  in  your  city, 

To  guard  and  keep  you  whole  and  safe  from  all 

The  spoil  and  sackage  aim'd  at  by  these  rebels, 

Who  mouth  and  foam  against  the  Prince  of  Spain. 

Voices. 

Long  live  Queen  Mary  ! 

Down  with  Wyatt ! 

The  Queen ! 

White. 

Three  voices  from  our  guilds  and  companies  ! 

You  are  shy  and  proud  like  Englishmen,  my  masters, 


86  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

And  will  not  trust  your  voices.     Understand  : 

Your  lawful  Prince  hath  come  to  cast  herself 

On  loyal  hearts  and  bosoms,  hoped  to  fall 

Into  the  wide-spread  arms  of  fealty, 

And  finds  you  statues.     Speak  at  once  —  and  all ! 

For  whom  ? 

Our  sovereign  Lady  by  King  Harry's  will ; 

The  Queen  of  England  —  or  the  Kentish  Squire  ? 

I  know  you  loyal.     Speak  !  in  the  name  of  God  ! 

The  Queen  of  England  or  the  rabble  of  Kent  ? 

The  reeking  dungfork  master  of  the  mace  ! 

Your  havings  wasted  by  the  scythe  and  spade  — 

Your  rights  and  charters  hobnail'd  into  slush  — 

Your  houses  fired  —  your  gutters  bubbling  blood  — 

Acclamation. 
No  !  No  !     The  Queen !  the  Queen  ! 

White. 

Your  Highness  hears 
This  burst  and  bass  of  loyal  harmony, 
And  how  we  each  and  all  of  us  abhor 
The  venomous,  bestial,  devilish  revolt 
Of  Thomas  Wyatt.     Hear  us  now  make  oath 
To  raise  your  Highness  thirty  thousand  men, 
And  arm  and  strike  as  with  one  hand,  and  brush 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  Sy 

This  Wyatt  from  our  shoulders,  like  a  flea 
That  might  have  leapt  upon  us  unawares. 
Swear  with  me,  noble  fellow-citizens,  all, 
With  all  your  trades,  and  guilds,  and  companies. 

Citizens. 

We  swear ! 

Mary. 

We  thank  your  Lordship  and  your  loyal  city. 

[Exit  Mary  attended 


White. 
I  trust  this  day,  thro'  God,  I  have  saved  the  crown. 

First  Alderman. 

Ay,  so  my  Lord  of  Pembroke  in  command 
Of  all  her  force  be  safe  ;  but  there  are  doubts. 

Second  Alderman. 
I  hear  that  Gardiner,  coming  with  the  Queen, 
And  meeting  Pembroke,  bent  to  his  saddle-bow, 
As  if  to  win  the  man  by  flattering  him. 
Is  he  so  safe  to  fight  upon  her  side  ? 

First  Alderman. 
If  not,  there's  no  man  safe. 


88  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

White. 

Yes,  Thomas  White. 
I  am  safe  enough ;  no  man  need  flatter  me. 

Second  Alderman. 

Nay,  no  man  need  ;  but  did  you  mark  our  Queen  ? 

The  color  freely  play'd  into  her  face, 

And  the  half  sight  which  makes  her  look  so  stern, 

Seem'd  thro'  that  dim  dilated  world  of  hers, 

To  read  our  faces  ;  I  have  never  seen  her 

So  queenly  or  so  goodly. 

White. 

Courage,  sir, 
That  makes  or  man  or  woman  look  their  goodliest. 
Die  like  the  torn  fox  dumb,  but  never  whine 
Like  that  poor  heart,  Northumberland,  at  the  block. 

Bagenhall. 

The  man  had  children,  and  he  whined  for  those. 
Methinks  most  men  are  but  poor-hearted,  else 
Should  we  so  doat  on  courage,  were  it  commoner  ? 
The  Queen  stands  up,  and  speaks  for  her  own  self ; 
And  all  men  cry,  she  is  queenly,  she  is  goodly. 
Yet  she's  no  goodlier ;  tho'  my  Lord  Mayor  here, 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  89 

By  his  own  rule,  he  hath  been  so  bold  to-day, 
Should  look  more  goodly  than  the  rest  of  us. 

White. 

Goodly  ?  I  feel  most  goodly  heart  and  hand, 
And  strong  to  throw  ten  Wyatts  and  all  Kent. 
Ha  !  ha !  sir ;  but  you  jest ;  I  love  it :  a  jest 
In  time  of  danger  shows  the  pulses  even. 
Be  merry  !  yet,  Sir  Ralph,  you  look  but  sad. 
I  dare  avouch  you'd  stand  up  for  yourself, 
Tho'  all  the  world  should  bay  like  winter  wolves. 

Bagenhall. 
Who  knows  ?  the  man  is  proven  by  the  hour. 

White. 

The  man  should  make  the  hour,  not  this  the  man ; 
And  Thomas  White  will  prove  this  Thomas  Wyatt, 
And  he  will  prove  an  Iden  to  this  Cade, 
And  he  will  play  the  Walworth  to  this  Wat  ; 
Come,  sirs,  we  prate  ;  hence  all  — gather  your  men  — 
Myself  must  bustle.     Wyatt  comes  to  Southwark ; 
I'll  have  the  drawbridge  hewn  into  the  Thames, 
And  see  the  citizen  arm'd.     Good  day ;  good  clay. 

[Exit  White 


90  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Bagenhall. 
One  of  much*,  outdoor  bluster. 

Howard. 

For  all  that, 
Most  honest,  brave,  and  skilful ;  and  his  wealth 
A  fountain  of  perennial  alms  —  his  fault 
So  thoroughly  to  believe  in  his  own  self. 

Bagenhall. 

Yet  thoroughly  to  believe  in  one's  own  self, 
So  one's  own  self  be  thorough,  were  to  do 
Great  things,  my  lord. 

Howard. 
It  may  be 

Bagenhall. 

I  have  heard 
One  of  your  council  fleer  and  jeer  at  him. 

Howard. 

The  nursery-cocker'd  child  will  jeer  at  aught 
That  may  seem  strange  beyond  his  nursery. 
The  statesman  that  shall  jeer  and  fleer  at  men, 
Makes  enemies  for  himself  and  for  his  king ; 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  91 

And  if  he  jeer  not  seeing  the  true  man 
Behind  his  folly,  he  is  thrice  the  fool ; 
And  if  he  see  the  man  and  still  will  jeer, 
He  is  child  and  fool,  and  traitor  to  the  State. 
Who  is  he  ?     Let  me  shun  him. 

Bagenhall. 

Nay,  my  Lord, 
He  is  damn'd  enough  already. 

Howard. 

I  must  set 
The  guard  at  Ludgate.     Fare  you  well,  Sir  Ralph. 

Bagenhall. 
"Who  knows?"     I  am  for  England.     But  who  knows, 
That  knows  the  Queen,  the  Spaniard,  and  the  Pope, 
Whether  I  be  for  Wyatt,  or  the  Queen  ?  {Exeunt. 


SCENE  III.  — LONDON   BRIDGE. 

Enter  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  and  Brett. 

Wyatt. 
Brett,  when  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  moved  against  us 
Thou  criedst  "  a  Wyatt,"  and  flying  to  our  side 


92  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Left  his  all  bare,  for  which  I  love  thee,  Brett. 
Have  for  thine  asking  aught  that  I  can  give, 
For  thro'  thine  help  we  are  come  to  London  Bridge ; 
But  how  to  cross  it  balks  me.     I  fear  we  cannot. 

Brett. 
Nay,  hardly,  save  by  boat,  swimming,  or  wings. 

Wyatt. 

Last  night  I  climb'd  into  the  gate-house,  Brett, 
And  scared  the  gray  old  porter  and  his  wife. 
And  then  I  crept  along  the  gloom  and  saw 
They  had  hewn  the  drawbridge  down  into  the  river. 
It  roll'd  as  black  as  death  ;  and  that  same  tide 
Which,  coming  with  our  coming,  seem'd  to  smile 
And  sparkle  like  our  fortune  as  thou  saidest, 
Ran  sunless  down,  and  moan'd  against  the  piers. 
But  o'er  the  chasm  I  saw  Lord  William  Howard 
By  torchlight,  and  his  guard  ;  four  guns  gaped  at  me, 
Black,  silent  mouths  :  had  Howard  spied  me  there 
And  made  them  speak,  as  well  he  might  have  done, 
Their  voice  had  left  me  none  to  tell  you  this. 
What  shall  we  do  ? 

Brett. 
On  somehow.     To  go  back 
Were  to  lose  all. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  93 

Wyatt. 

On  over  London  Bridge 
We  cannot :  stay  we  cannot ;  there  is  ordnance 
On  the  White  Tower  and  on  the  Devil's  Tower, 
And  pointed  full  at  Southwark  ;  we  must  round 
By  Kingston  Bridge. 

Brett. 
Ten  miles  about. 

Wyatt. 

Ev'n  so. 
But  I  have  notice  from  our  partisans 
Within  the  city  that  they  will  stand  by  us 
If  Ludgate  can  be  reach'd  by  dawn  to-morrow. 

Enter  o?ie  of  Wyatt's  men. 

Man. 

Sir  Thomas,  I've  found  this  paper,  pray  your  worship 
read  it ;  I  know  not  my  letters ;  the  old  priests  taught 
me  nothing. 

Wyatt  {reads). 

"  Whosoever  will  apprehend  the  traitor  Thomas 
Wyatt  shall  have  a  hundred  pounds  for  reward." 


94  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii 

Man. 
Is  that  it  ?     That's  a  big  lot  of  money. 

Wyatt. 

Ay,  ay,  my  friend  ;  not  read  it  ?  'tis  not  written 
Half  plain  enough.     Give  me  a  piece  of  paper  ! 

[  Writes  "  Thomas  Wyatt  "  large. 
There,  any  man  can  read  that.  \Sticks  it  in  his  cap. 

Brett. 

But  that's  foolhardy. 

Wyatt. 
No  !  boldness,  which  will  give  my  followers  boldness. 

Enter  Man  with  a  prisoner. 

Man. 

We  found  him,  your  worship,  a  plundering  o'  Bishop 
Winchester's  house  ;  he  says  he's  a  poor  gentleman. 

Wyatt. 
Gentleman,  a  thief  !     Go  hang  him.     Shall  we  make 
Those  that  we  come  to  serve  our  sharpest  foes  ? 

Brett. 
Sir  Thomas  — 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  95 

Wyatt. 

Hang  him,  I  say. 

Brett. 
Wyatt,  but  now  you  promised  me  a  boon. 

Wyatt. 
Ay,  and  I  warrant  this  fine  fellow's  life. 

Brett. 
Ev'n  so  ;  he  was  my  neighbor  once  in  Kent. 
He's  poor  enough,  has  drunk  and  gambled  out 
All  that  he  had,  and  gentleman  he  was. 
We  have  been  glad  together ;  let  him  live. 

Wyatt. 

He  has  gambled  for  his  life,  and  lost,  he  hangs. 

No,  no,  my  word's  my  word.    Take  thy  poor  gentleman  ! 

Gamble  thyself  at  once  out  of  my  sight, 

Or  I  will  dig  thee  with  my  dagger.     Away  1 

Women  and  children  ! 

Enter  a  Crowd  of  Women  and  Children. 

First  Woman. 
O  Sir  Thomas,  Sir  Thomas,  pray  you  go  away,  Sir 


g6  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Thomas,  or  you'll  make  the  White  Tower  a  black  'un 
for  us  this  blessed  day.  He'll  be  the  death  on  us  ;  and 
you'll  set  the  Divil's  Tower  a-spitting,  and  he'll  smash 
all  our  bits  o'  things  worse  than  Philip  o'  Spain. 

Second  Woman. 
Don't  ye  now  go  to  think  that  we  be  for  Philip  o' 
Spain. 

Third  Woman. 

No,  we  know  that  ye  be  come  to  kill  the  Queen,  and 
we'll  pray  for  you  all  on  our  bended  knees.  But  o' 
God's  mercy  don't  ye  kill  the  Queen  here,  Sir  Thomas  ; 
look  ye,  here's  little  Dickon,  and  little  Robin,  and  little 
Jenny — though  she's  but  a  side-cousin — and  all  on 
our  knees,  we  pray  you  to  kill  the  Queen  farther  off, 
Sir  Thomas. 

Wyatt. 

My  friends,  I  have  not  come  to  kill  the  Queen 
Or  here  or  there  :  I  come  to  save  you  all, 
And  I'll  go  farther  off. 

Crowd. 

Thanks,  Sir  Thomas,  we  be  beholden  to  you,  and  we'll 
pray  for  you  on  our  bended  knees  till  our  lives'  end. 


SCENE  IV.] 

Queen 

Mary. 

97 

Wyatt. 

Be  happy,  I  am 

your  friend. 

To  Kingston, 

forward ! 

\Exeu?it 

SCENE  IV.  —  ROOM  IN  THE  GATEHOUSE  OF 
WESTMINSTER  PALACE. 

Mary,  Alice,  Gardiner,  Renard,  Ladies. 

Alice. 
O  madam,  if  Lord  Pembroke  should  be  false  ? 

Mary. 
No,  girl  ;  most  brave  and  loyal,  brave  and  loyal. 
His  breaking  with  Northumberland  broke  Northumber- 
land. 
At  the  park  gate  he  hovers  with  our  guards. 
These  Kentish  ploughmen  cannot  break  the  guards. 

Enter  Messenger. 

Messenger. 
Wyatt,  your  Grace,  hath  broken  thro'  the  guards 
And  gone  to  Ludgate. 
7 


98  Qtiee?i  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Gardiner. 

Madam,  I  much  fear 
That  all  is  lost;  but  we  can  save  your  Grace. 
The  river  still  is  free.     I  do  beseech  you, 
There  yet  is  time,  take  boat  and  pass  to  Windsor. 

Mary. 
I  pass  to  Windsor  and  I  lose  my  crown. 

Gardiner. 
Pass,  then,  I  pray  your  Highness,  to  the  Tower. 

Mary. 
I  shall  but  be  their  prisoner  in  the  Tower. 

Cries  without. 
The  traitor  !  treason  !  Pembroke  ! 

Ladies. 

Treason  !  treason  1 

Mary. 

Peace. 

False  to  Northumberland,  is  he  false  to  me  ? 

Pear  witness,  Renard,  that  I  live  and  die 

The  true  and  faithful  bride  of  Philip  —  A  sound 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  99 

Of  feet  and  voices  thickening  hither  —  blows  — 
Hark,  there  is  battle  at  the  palace  gates, 
And  I  will  out  upon  the  gallery. 

Ladies. 
No,  no,  your  Grace ;  see  there  the  arrows  flying. 

Mary. 

I  am  Harry's  daughter,  Tudor,  and  not  fear. 

[Goes  ont  on  the  gallery. 
The  guards  are  all  driven  in,  skulk  into  corners 
Like  rabbits  to  their  holes.     A  gracious  guard 
Truly ;  shame  on  them  they  have  shut  the  gates  ! 

Enter  Sir  Robert  Southwell. 

Southwell. 

The  porter,  please  your  Grace,  hath  shut  the  gates 
On  friend  and  foe.     Your  gentlemen-at-arms, 
If  this  be  not  your  Grace's  order,  cry 
To  have  the  gates  set  wide  again,  and  they 
With  their  good  battle-axes  will  do  you  right 


Against  all  traitors. 


Mary. 


They  are  the  flower  of  England  ;  set  the  gates  wide. 

[Exit  Southwell 


ioo  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Enter  Courtenay. 

COURTENAV. 

All  lost,  all  lost,  all  yielded ;  a  barge,  a  barge, 
The  Queen  must  to  the  Tower. 

Mary. 

Whence  come  you,  sir  ? 

Courtenay. 
From  Charing  Cross  ;  the  rebels  broke  us  there, 
And  I  sped  hither  with  what  haste  I  might 
To  save  my  royal  cousin. 

Mary. 

Where  is  Pembroke  ? 

Courtenay. 
I  left  him  somewhere  in  the  thick  of  it. 

Mary. 

Left  him  and  fled  ;  and  thou  that  wouldst  be  King, 
And  hast  nor  heart  nor  honor.     I  myself 
Will  down  into  the  battle  and  there  bide 
The  upshot  of  my  quarrel,  or  die  with  those 
That  are  no  cowards  and  no  Courtenays. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  101 

COURTENAY. 

I  do  not  love  your  Grace  should  call  me  coward. 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

Messenger. 
Over,  your  Grace,  all  crush'd  ;  the  brave  Lord  William 
Thrust  him  from  Ludgate,  and  the  traitor  flying 
To  Temple  Bar,  there  by  Sir  Maurice  Berkeley 
Was  taken  prisoner. 

Mary. 
To  the  Tower  with  him  / 

Messenger. 

'Tis  said  he  told  Sir  Maurice  there  was  one 
Cognizant  of  this,  and  party  thereunto, 
My  Lord  of  Devon. 

Mary. 
To  the  Tower  with  him  ! 

COURTENAY. 

0  la,  the  Tower,  the  Tower,  always  the  Tower, 

1  shall  grow  into  it  —  I  shall  be  the  Tower. 


102  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Mary. 

Your  Lordship  may  not  have  so  long  to  wait. 
Remove  him ! 

COURTENAY. 

La,  to  whistle  out  my  life, 
And  carve  my  coat  upon  the  walls  again  ! 

[Exit  Courtenay  guarded 

Messenger. 
Also  this  Wyatt  did  confess  the  Princess 
Cognizant  thereof,  and  party  thereunto. 

Mary. 
What  ?  whom  —  whom  did  you  say  ? 

Messenger. 

Elizabeth, 
Your  Royal  sister. 

Mary. 

To  the  Tower  with  her  ! 
My  foes  are  at  my  feet  and  I  am  Queen. 

[Gardiner  and  her  Ladies  kneel  to  her. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  103 

Gardiner  {rising). 
There  let  them  lie,  your  footstool !     (Aside.)     Can   1 

strike 
Elizabeth  ?  —  not  now  and  save  the  life 
Of  Devon  :  if  I  save  him,  he  and  his 
Are  bound   to  me  —  may   strike   hereafter.     (Aloud) 

Madam, 
What  Wyatt  said,  or  what  they  said  he  said, 
Cries  of  the  moment  and  the  street  — 

Mary. 

He  said  it. 

Gardiner. 
Your  courts  of  justice  will  determine  that. 

Renard  (advancing). 

I  trust  by  this  your  Highness  will  allow 
Some  spice  of  wisdom  in  my  telling  you, 
When  last  we  talk'd,  that  Philip  would  not  come 
Till  Guildford  Dudley  and  the  Duke  of  Suffolk 
And  Lady  Jane  had  left  us. 

Mary. 

They  shall  die. 


io4  Queen  Mary.  [act  ii. 

Renard. 
And  your  so  loving  sister? 

Mary. 

She  shall  die. 
My  foes  are  at  my  feet,  and  Philip  King. 

\Exeu  tt. 


Queen  Mary.  105 


ACT   III. 

SCENE  I.  — THE  CONDUIT  IN  GRACE- 
CHURCH, 

Painted  with  the  Nine  Worthies,  among  them  King  Henry 
VIII.  holding  a  book,  on  it  inscribed  "  Verbum  Dei." 

Enter  Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall  and  Sir  Thomas 
Stafford. 

Bagenhall. 

A  hundred  here  and  hundreds  hang'd  in  Kent. 

The  tigress  had  unsheath'd  her  nails  at  last, 

And  Renard  and  the  Chancellor  sharpen'd  them. 

In  every  London  street  a  gibbet  stood. 

They  are  down  to-day.     Here  by  this  house  was  one ; 

The  traitor  husband  dangled  at  the  door, 

And  when  the  traitor  wife  came  out  for  bread 

To  still  the  petty  treason  therewithin, 

Her  cap  would  brush  his  heels. 

Stafford. 

It  is  Sir  Ralph, 


106  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

And  muttering  to  himself  as  heretofore. 
Sir,  see  you  aught  up  yonder  ? 

Bagenhall. 

I  miss  something. 
The  tree  that  only  bears  dead  fruit  is  gone. 

Stafford. 
What  tree,  sir  ? 

Bagenhall. 
Well,  the  tree  in  Virgil,  sir, 
That  bears  not  its  own  apples. 

Stafford. 

What !  the  gallows  ? 

Bagenhall. 
Sir,  this  dead  fruit  was  ripening  overmuch, 
And  had  to  be  removed  lest  living  Spain 
Should  sicken  at  dead  England. 

Stafford. 

Not  so  dead, 
But  that  a  shock  may  rouse  her. 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  107 

Bagenhall. 

I  believe 
Sir  Thomas  Stafford? 

Stafford. 
I  am  ill  disguised. 

Bagenhall. 
Well,  are  you  not  in  peril  here  ? 

Stafford. 

I  think  so. 
I  came  to  feel  the  pulse  of  England,  whether 
It  beats  hard  at  this  marriage.     Did  you  see  it  ? 

Bagenhall. 

Stafford,  I  am  a  sad  man  and  a  serious. 

Far  liefer  had  I  in  my  country  hall 

Been  reading  some  old  book,  with  mine  old  hound 

Couch'd  at  my  hearth,  and  mine  old  flask  of  wine 

Beside  me,  than  have  seen  it,  yet  I  saw  it. 

Stafford. 
Good,  was  it  splendid  ? 

Bagenhall. 

Ay,  if  Dukes,  and  Earls, 


108  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

And  Counts,  and  sixty  Spanish  cavaliers, 
Some  six  or  seven  Bishops,  diamonds,  pearls, 
That  royal  commonplace  too,  cloth  of  gold, 
Could  make  it  so. 

Stafford. 
And  what  was  Mary's  dress  ? 

Bagenhall. 

Good  faith,  I  was  too  sorry  for  the  woman 
To  mark  the  dress.     She  wore  red  shoes ! 

Stafford. 

Red  shoes 

Bagenhall. 

Scarlet,  as  if  her  feet  were  wash'd  in  blood, 
As  if  she  had  waded  in  it. 

Stafford. 

Were  your  eyes 
So  bashful  that  you  look'd  no  higher? 

Bagenhall. 

A  diamond, 
And  Philip's  gift,  as  proof  of  Philip's  love, 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  109 

Who  hath  not  any  for  any,  —  tho'  a  true  one. 
Blazed  false  upon  her  heart. 

Stafford. 

But  this  proud  Prince  — 

Bagenhall. 

Nay,  he  is  King,  you  know,  the  King  of  Naples. 
The  father  ceded  Naples,  that  the  son 
Being  a  King,  might  wed  a  Queen  —  O  he 
Flamed  in  brocade  —  white  satin  his  trunk  hose, 
Inwrought  with  silver,  — on  his  neck  a  collar, 
Gold,  thick  with  diamonds  ;  hanging  down  from  this 
The  Golden  Fleece  —  and  round  his  knee,  misplaced, 
Our  English  Garter,  studded  with  great  emeralds, 
Rubies,  I  know  not  what.     Have  you  had  enough 
Of  all  this  gear  ? 

Stafford. 
Ay,  since  you  hate  the  telling  it. 
How  look'd  the  Queen  ? 

Bagenhall. 

No  fairer  for  her  jewels. 
And  I  could  see  that  as  the  new-made  couple 
Came  from  the  Minster,  moving  side  by  side 


no  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Beneath  one  canopy,  ever  and  anon 
She  cast  on  him  a  vassal  smile  of  love, 
Which  Philip  with  a  glance  of  some  distaste, 
Or  so  methought,  return'd.     I  may  be  wrong,  sir. 
This  marriage  will  not  hold. 

Stafford. 

I  think  with  you. 
The  King  of  France  will  help  to  break  it. 

Bagenhall. 

France  ! 
We  once  had  half  of  France,  and  hurl'd  our  battles 
Into  the  heart  of  Spain  ;  but  England  now 
Is  but  a  ball  chuck'd  between  France  and  Spain 
His  in  whose  hand  she  drops  ;  Harry  of  Bolingbroke 
Had  holpen  Richard's  tottering  throne  to  stand, 
Could  Harry  have  foreseen  that  all  our  nobles 
Would  perish  on  the  civil  slaughter-field, 
And  leave  the  people  naked  to  the  crown, 
And  the  crown  naked  to  the  people  ;  the  crown 
Female,  too  !  Sir,  no  woman's  regimen 
Can  save  us.     We  are  fallen,  and  as  I  think, 


Never  to  rise  again. 


Stafford. 

You  are  too  black-blooded. 


scene  l]  Queen  Mary.  1 1 1 

I'd  make  a  move  myself  to  hinder  that : 
I  know  some  lusty  fellows  there  in  France. 

Bagenhall. 
You  would  but  make  us  weaker,  Thomas  Stafford. 
Wyatt  was  a  good  soldier,  yet  he  fail'd, 
And  strengthen'd  Philip. 

Stafford. 

Did  not  his  last  breath 
Clear  Courtenay  and  the  Princess  from  the  charge 
Of  being  his  co-rebels  ? 

Bagenhall. 

Ay,  but  then 
What  such  a  one  as  Wyatt  says  is  nothing : 
We  have  no  men  among  us.     The  new  Lords 
Are  quieted  with  their  sop  of  Abbeylands, 
And  ev'n  before  the  Queen's  face  Gardiner  buys  them 
With  Philip's  gold.     All  greed,  no  faith,  no  courage ! 
Why,  ev'n  the  haughty  prince,  Northumberland, 
The  leader  of  our  Reformation,  knelt 
And  blubber'd  like  a  lad,  and  on  the  scaffold 
Recanted,  and  resold  himself  to  Rome. 

Stafford. 
I  swear  you  do  your  country  wrong,  Sir  Ralph. 


1 1 2  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi 

I  know  a  set  of  exiles  over  there, 

Dare-devils,  that  would  eat  fire  and  spit  it  out 

At  Philip's  beard  :  they  pillage  Spain  already. 

The  French  king  winks  at  it.     An  hour  will  come 

When  they  will  sweep  her  from  the  seas.     No  men  ? 

Did  not  Lord  Suffolk  die  like  a  true  man  ? 

Is  not  Lord  William  Howard  a  true  man  ? 

Yea,  you  yourself,  altho'  you  are  black-blooded : 

And  I,  by  God,  believe  myself  a  man. 

Ay,  even  in  the  church  there  is  a  man  — 

Cranmer. 

Fly,  would  he  not,  when  all  men  bade  him  fly. 

And  what  a  letter  he  wrote  against  the  Pope  ! 

There's  a  brave  man,  if  any. 

Bagenhall. 

Ay  ;  if  it  hold. 

Crowd  {coming  on). 
God  save  their  Graces  ! 

Stafford. 

Bagenhall,  I  see 
The  Tudor  green  and  white.     (Trumpets?)    They  are 

coming  now. 
And  here's  a  crowd  as  thick  as  herring-shoals. 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  113 

Bagenhall. 
Be  limpets  to  this  pillar,  or  we  are  torn 
Down  the  strong  wave  of  brawlers. 

Crowd. 

God  save  their  Graces. 

[Procession  of  Trumpeters,  yavclin-men,  etc. ,  then 
Spanish  and  Flemish  Nobles  intermingled. 

Stafford. 

Worth  seeing,  Bagenhall !  These  black  dog-Dons 
Garb  themselves  bravely.     Who's  the  long-face  there, 
Looks  very  Spain  of  very  Spain  ? 

Bagenhall. 

The  Duke 
Of  Alva,  an  iron  soldier. 

Stafford. 

And  the  Dutchman, 
Now  laughing  at  some  jest  ? 

Bagenhall 

William  of  Orange, 
William  the  Silent. 
8 


114  Queen  Mary.  [act  in. 

Stafford. 
Why  do  they  call  him  so  ? 

Bagenhall. 

He  keeps,  they  say,  some  secret  that  may  cost 
Philip  his  life. 

Stafford. 
But  then  he  looks  so  merry. 

Bagenhall. 

I  cannot  tell  you  why  they  call  him  so. 

[The  King  and  Queen  pass,  attended  by  Peers 
of  the  Realm,  Officers  of  State,  &-c.  Cannon 
shot  off. 

Crowd. 

Philip  and  Mary,  Philip  and  Mary. 

Long  live  the  King  and  Queen,  Philip  and  Mary. 

Stafford. 
They  smile  as  if  content  with  one  another. 

Bagenhall. 

A  smile  abroad  is  oft  a  scowl  at  home. 

[King  and  Queen  pass  on.    Procession. 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  1 1 5 

First  Citizen. 

I  thought  this   Philip   had  been  one  of  those  black 
devils  of  Spain,  but  he  hath  a  yellow  beard. 

Second  Citizen. 
Not  red  like  Iscariot's. 

First  Citizen. 
Like  a  carrot's,  as  thou  sayst,  and  Er.glish  carrot's 
better  than  Spanish  licorice  ;  but  I  thought  he  was  a 
beast. 

Third  Citizen. 
Certain  I  had  heard  that  every  Spaniard  carries  a  tail 
like  a  devil  under  his  trunk  hose. 

Tailor. 
Ay,  but  see  what  trunk-hoses  !  Lord  !  they  be  fine  ;  I 
never  stitch'd  none  such.     They  make  amends  for  the 
tails. 

Fourth  Citizen. 
Tut !  every  Spanish  priest  will  tell  you  that  all  Eng- 
lish heretics  have  tails. 

Fifth  Citizen. 
Death  and  the  Devil  —  if  he  find  I  have  one  — 


1 1 6  Queen  Mary.  [act  in 

Fourth  Citizen. 
Lo !   thou  hast  call'd  them  up  !  here  they  come  — 
a  pale  horse  for  Death  and  Gardiner  for  the  Devil. 

Enter  Gardiner  {turning  back  from  the  procession). 

Gardiner. 
Knave,  wilt  thou  wear  thy  cap  before  the  Queen  ? 

Man. 
My  Lord,  I  stand  so  squeezed  among  the  crowd 
I  cannot  lift  my  hands  unto  my  head. 

Gardiner. 
Knock  off  his  cap  there,  some  of  you  about  him ! 
See  there  be  others  that  can  use  their  hands. 
Thou  art  one  of  Wyatt's  men  ? 

Man. 

No,  my  Lord,  no. 

Gardiner. 
Thy  name,  thou  knave  ? 

Man. 

I  am  nobody,  my  Lord, 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  117 

Gardiner  (shouting). 
God's  passion !  knave,  thy  name  ? 

Man. 

I  have  ears  to  hear. 

Gardiner. 

Ay,  rascal,  if  I  leave  thee  ears  to  hear. 

Find  out  his  name  and  bring  it  me  (to  Attendant). 

Attendant. 

Ay,  my  Lord. 

Gardiner. 
Knave,  thou  shalt  lose  thine  ears  and  find  thy  tongue, 
And  shalt  be  thankful  if  I  leave  thee  that. 

[Coming  before  the  Conduit. 
The  conduit  painted  —  the  nine  worthies  —  ay  ! 
But  then  what's  here  ?     King  Harry  with  a  scroll. 
Ha  —  Verbum  Dei  —  verbum  —  word  of  God  ! 
God's  passion  !  do  you  know  the  knave  that  painted  it  ? 

Attendant. 
I  do,  my  Lord. 


1 1 3  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Gardiner. 
Tell  him  to  paint  it  out, 
And  put  some  fresh  device  in  lieu  of  it  — 
A  pair  of  gloves,  a  pair  of  gloves,  sir;  ha? 
There  is  no  heresy  there.  v 


Attendant. 

I  will,  my  Lord. 
The  man  shall  paint  a  pair  of  gloves.     I  am  sure 
(Knowing  the  man)  he  wrought  it  ignorantly, 
And  not  from  any  malice. 

Gardiner. 

Word  of  God 
In  English  !  over  this  the  brainless  loons 
That  cannot  spell  Esaias  from  St.  Paul, 
Make  themselves  drunk  and  mad,  fly  out  and  flare 
Into  rebellions.     I'll  have  their  Bibles  burnt. 
The  Bible  is  the  priest's.     Ay !  fellow,  what ! 
Stand  staring  at  me !  shout,  you  gaping  rogue. 


Man. 
[  have,  my  Lord,  shouted  till  I  am  hoarse. 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  119 

Gardiner. 
What  hast  thou  shouted,  knave  ? 

Man. 

Long  live  Queen  Mary 

Gardiner. 

Knave,  there  be  two.     There  be  both  King  and  Queen, 
Philip  and  Mary.     Shout. 

Man. 

Nay,  but,  my  Lord, 
The  Queen  comes  first,  Mary  and  Philip. 

Gardiner. 

Shout,  then, 
Mary  and  Philip. 

Man. 
Mary  and  Philip ! 

Gardiner. 

Now, 
Thou  hast  shouted  for  thy  pleasure,  shout  for  mine  ! 
Philip  and  Mary  1 


120  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Man. 
Must  it  be  so,  my  Lord  ? 


Ay,  knave. 


Gardiner. 

Man. 
Philip  and  Mary. 


Gardiner. 

I  distrust  thee. 
Thine  is  a  half  voice  and  a  lean  assent. 
What  is  thy  name  ? 

Man. 
Sanders. 

Gardiner. 

What  else  ? 

Man. 

Zerubbabel. 

Gardiner. 
Where  dost  thou  live  ? 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  121 

Man. 
In  Cornhill. 

Gardiner. 

Where,  knave,  where  \ 

Man. 
Sign  of  the  Talbot. 

Gardiner. 

Come  to  me  to-morrow.  — 
Rascal  !  —  this  land  is  like  a  hill  of  fire, 
One  crater  opens  when  another  shuts. 
But  so  I  get  the  laws  against  the  heretic, 
Spite  of  Lord  Paget  and  Lord  William  Howard, 
And  others  of  our  Parliament,  revived, 
I  will  show  fire  on  my  side  —  stake  and  fire  — 
Sharp  work  and  short.     The  knaves  are  easily  cow'd. 
Follow  their  Majesties. 

\Exit.     The  crozvd following. 

Bagenhall. 

As  proud  as  Becket. 

Stafford. 
You  would  not  have  him  murder'd  as  Becket  was  ? 


122  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Bagenhall. 

No  —  murder  fathers  murder  :  but  I  say 

There  is  no  man  —  there  was  one  woman  with  us  — 

It  was  a  sin  to  love  her  married,  dead 

I  cannot  choose  but  love  her. 

Stafford. 

Lady  Jane  ? 

Crowd  {going  off). 
God  save  their  Graces. 

Stafford. 

Did  you  see  her  die  ? 

Bagenhall. 

No,  no ;  her  innocent  blood  had  blinded  me. 
You  call  me  too  black-blooded — true  enough 
Her  dark  dead  blood  is  in  my  heart  with  mine. 
If  ever  I  cry  out  against  the  Pope 
Her  dark  dead  blood  that  ever  moves  with  mine 
Will  stir  the  living  tongue  and  make  the  ciy. 

Stafford. 
Yet  doubtless  you  can  tell  me  how  she  died  ? 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  123 

Bagenhall. 
Seventeen  —  and  knew  eight  languages  —  in  music 
Peerless  —  her  needle  perfect,  and  her  learning 
Beyond  the  churchmen ;  yet  so  meek,  so  modest, 
So  wife-like  humble  to  the  trivial  boy 
Mismatch'd  with  her  for  policy  !     I  have  heard 
She  would  not  take  a  last  farewell  of  him, 
She  fear'd  it  might  unman  him  for  his  end. 
She  could  not  be  unmann'd  — no,  nor  outwoman'd  — 
Seventeen  —  a  rose  of  grace  ! 
Girl  never  breathed  to  rival  such  a  rose  ; 
Rose  never  blew  that  equall'd  such  a  bud. 

Stafford. 
Pray  you  go  on. 

Bagenhall. 
She  came  upon  the  scaffold, 
And  said  she  was  condemn'd  to  die  for  treason  j 
She  had  but  follow'd  the  device  of  those 
Her  nearest  kin :  she  thought  they  knew  the  laws. 
But  for  herself,  she  knew  but  little  law, 
And  nothing  of  the  titles  to  the  crown ; 
She  had  no  desire  for  that,  and  wrung  her  hands, 
And  trusted  God  would  save  her  thro'  the  blood 
Of  Jesus  Christ  alone. 


124  Queen  Mary.  [act  :ii. 

Stafford. 

Pray  you  go  on. 


Bagenhall. 
Then  knelt  and  said  the  Miserere  Mei  — 
But  all  in  English,  mark  you  ;  rose  again, 
And,  when  the  headsman  pray'd  to  be  forgiven, 
Said,  "You  will  give  me  my  true  crown  at  last, 
But  do  it  quickly ; "  then  all  wept  but  she, 
Who  changed  not  color  when  she  saw  the  block, 
But  ask'd  him,  childlike :  "  Will  you  take  it  off 
Before  I  lay  me  down  ? "     "  No,  madam,"  he  said, 
Gasping  ;  and  when  her  innocent  eyes  were  bound, 
She,  with  her  poor  blind  hands  feeling  —  "  where  is  it  ? 
Where  is  it?  "  —  You  must  fancy  that  which  follow'd, 
If  you  have  heart  to  do  it ! 

Crowd  (in  the  distance). 

God  save  their  Graces ! 

Stafford. 
Their  Graces,  our  disgraces  !     God  confound  them  ! 
Why,  she's  grown  bloodier !  when  I  last  was  here, 
This  was  against  her  conscience  —  would  be  murder  ! 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  125 

Bagenhall. 
The  "Thou  shalt  do  no  murder,"  which  God's  hand 
Wrote  on  her  conscience,  Mary  rubb'd  out  pale  — 
She  could  not  make  it  white  —  and  over  that, 
Traced  in  the  blackest  text  of  Hell  —  "  Thou  shalt !  " 
And  sign'd  it  —  Mary  ! 

Stafford. 

■Philip  and  the  Pope 
Must  have  sign'd  too.     I  hear  this  Legate's  coming 
To  bring  us  absolution  from  the  Pope. 
The  Lords  and  Commons  will  bow  down  before  him  — 
You  are  of  the  house  ?  what  will  you  do,  Sir  Ralph  ? 

Bagenhall. 
And  why  should  I  be  bolder  than  the  rest, 
Or  hon ester  than  all  ? 

Stafford. 
But,  sir,  if  I  — 
And  over  sea  they  say  this  state  of  yours 
Hath  no  more  mortise  than  a  tower  of  cards  ; 
And  that  a  puff  would  do  it —  then  if  I 
And  others  made  that  move  I  touch'd  upon, 


126  Queen  Mary.  [act  :ii. 

Back'd  by  the  power  of  France,  and  landing  here, 
Came  with  a  sudden  splendor,  shout,  and  show, 
And  dazzled  men  and  deafen'd  by  some  bright 
Loud  venture,  and  the  people  so  unquiet  — 
And  I  the  race  of  murder'd  Buckingham  — 
Not  for  myself,  but  for  the  kingdom —  Sir, 
I  trust  that  you  would  fight  along  with  us. 

Bagenhall. 
No ;  you  would  fling  your  lives  into  the  gulf. 

Stafford. 
But  if  this  Philip,  as  he's  like  to  do, 
Left  Mary  a  wife-widow  here  alone, 
Set  up  a  viceroy,  sent  his  myriads  hither 
To  seize  upon  the  forts  and  fleet,  and  make  us 
A  Spanish  province  ;  would  you  not  fight  then  ? 

Bagenhall. 
I  think  I  should  fight  then. 


*to* 


Stafford. 

I  am  sure  of  it. 
Hist !  there's  the  face  coming  on  here  of  one 
Who  knows  me.     I  must  leave  you.     Fare  you  well, 
You'll  hear  of  me  again. 


-*■&' 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  127 

Bagenhall. 

Upon  the  scaffold.        [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II.—  ROOM  IN  WHITEHALL  PALACE, 
Mary.     Enter  Philip  and  Cardinal  Pole. 

Pole. 

Ave  Maria,  gratia  plena,  Benedicta  tu  in  mulieribus. 

Mary. 
Loyal  and  royal  cousin,  humblest  thanks. 
Had  you  a  pleasant  voyage  up  the  river  ? 

Pole. 
We  had  your  royal  barge,  and  that  same  chair, 
Or  rather  throne  of  purple,  on  the  deck. 
Our  silver  cross  sparkled  before  the  prow, 
The  ripples  twinkled  at  their  diamond-dance, 
The  boats  that  follow'd,  were  as  glowing-gay 
As  regal  gardens  ;  and  your  flocks  of  swans, 
As  fair  and  white  as  angels  ;  and  your  shores 


128  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Wore  in  mine  eyes  the  green  of  Paradise. 
My  foreign  friends,  who  dream'd  us  blanketed 
In  ever-closing  fog,  were  much  amazed 
To  find  as  fair  a  sun  as  might  have  flash'd 
Upor  their  Lake  of  Garda,  fire  the  Thames  ; 
Our  voyage  by  sea  was  all  but  miracle  ; 
And  here  the  river  flowing  from  the  sea, 
Not  toward  it  (for  they  thought  not  of  our  tides), 
Seem'd  as  a  happy  miracle  to  make  glide  — 
In  quiet  —  home  your  banish'd  countryman. 

Mary. 
We  heard  that  you  were  sick  in  Flanders,  cousin. 

Pole. 
A  dizziness. 

Mary. 
And  how  came  you  round  again  ? 

Pole. 

The  scarlet  thread  of  Rahab  saved  her  life ; 
And  mine,  a  little  letting  of  the  blood. 

Mary. 
Well?  now? 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  129 

Pole. 
Ay,  cousin,  as  the  heathen  giant 
Had  but  to  touch  the  ground,  his  force  return'd  — 
Thus,  after  twenty  years  of  banishment, 
Feeling  my  native  land  beneath  my  foot, 
I  said  thereto  :  "  Ah,  native  land  of  mine, 
Thou  art  much  beholden  to  this  foot  of  mine, 
That  hastes  with  full  commission  from  the  Pope 
To  absolve  thee  from  thy  guilt  of  heresy. 
Thou  hast  disgraced  me  and  attainted  me, 
And  mark'd  me  ev'n  as  Cain,  and  I  return 
As  Peter,  but  to  bless  thee  :  make  me  well." 
Methinks  the  good  land  heard  me,  for  to-day 
My  heart  beats  twenty,  when  I  see  you,  cousin. 
Ah,  gentle  cousin,  since  your  Herod's  death, 
How  oft  hath  Peter  knock'd  at  Mary's  gate ! 
And  Mary  would  have  risen  and  let  him  in, 
But,  Mary,  there  were  those  within  the  house 
Who  would  not  have  it. 

Mary. 
True,  good  cousin  Pole  ; 
And  there  were  also  those  without  the  house 
Who  would  not  have  it. 

Pole. 
I  believe  so,  cousin. 


130  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

State-policy  and  church-policy  are  conjoint, 
But  Janus-faces  looking  diverse  ways. 
I  fear  the  Emperor  much  misvalued  me. 
But  all  is  well  ;  'twas  ev'n  the  will  of  God, 
Who,  waiting  till  the  time  had  ripen'd,  now, 
Makes  me  his  mouth  of  holy  greeting.     "  Hail, 
Daughter'  of  God,  and  saver  of  the  faith, 
Sit  benedictus  fructus  ventris  tui !  " 

Mary. 
Ah,  heaven ! 

Pole. 
Unwell,  your  grace  ? 

Mary. 

No,  cousin,  happy  — 
Happy  to  see  you  ;  never  yet  so  happy 
Since  I  was  crown'd. 

Pole. 

Sweet  cousin,  you  forget 
That  long  low  minster  where  you  gave  your  hand 
To  this  great  Catholic  King. 

Philip. 

Well  said,  Lord  Legate. 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  131 

Mary. 
Nay,  not  well  said ;  I  thought  of  you,  my  liege, 
Ev'n  as  I  spoke. 

Philip. 
Ay,  Madam  ;  my  Lord  Paget 
Waits  to  present  our  Council  to  the  Legate. 
Sit  down  here,  all  \  Madam,  between  us  you. 

Pole. 
Lo.  now  you  are  enclosed  with  boards  of  cedar, 
Our  little  sister  of  the  Song  of  Songs ! 
You  are  doubly  fenced  and  shielded  sitting  here 
Between  the  two  most  high-set  thrones  on  earth, 
The  Emperor's  highness  happily  symboll'd  by 
The  King  your  husband,  the  Pope's  Holiness 
By  mine  own  self. 

Mary. 
True,  cousin,  I  am  happy. 
When  will  you  that  we  summon  both  our  houses 
To  take  this  absolution  from  your  lips, 
A.nd  be  regather'd  to  the  Papal  fold? 

Pole. 
In  Britain's  calendar  the  brightest  day 


132  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Beheld  our  rough  forefathers  break  their  Gods, 
And  clasp  the  faith  in  Christ ;  but  after  that 
Might  not  St.  Andrew's  be  her  happiest  day  ? 

Mary. 
Then  these  shall  meet  upon  St.  Andrew's  day. 
Enter  Paget,  who  presents  the  Council.     Dumb  show. 

Pole. 

I  am  an  old  man  wearied  with  my  journey, 
Ev'n  with  my  joy.     Permit  me  to  withdraw. 
To  Lambeth? 

Philip. 

Ay,  Lambeth  has  ousted  Cranmer. 
It  was  not  meet  the  heretic  swine  should  live 
In  Lambeth. 

Mary. 
There  or  anywhere,  or  at  all. 

Philip. 
We  have  had  it  swept  and  garnish'd  after  him. 

Pole. 
Not  for  the  seven  devils  to  enter  in  ? 


scene  II.]  Queen  Mary.  133 

Phiilip. 
No,  for  we  trust  they  parted  in  the  swine. 

Pole. 

True,  and  I  am  the  Angel  of  the  Pope. 
Farewell,  your  Graces. 

Philip. 

Nay,  not  here  —  to  me  ; 
I  will  go  with  you  to  the  waterside. 

Pole. 
Not  be  my  Charon  to  the  counter  side  ? 

Philip. 
No,  my  Lord  Legate,  the  Lord  Chancellor  goes. 

Pole. 

And  unto  no  dead  world ;  but  Lambeth  palace, 
Henceforth  a  centre  of  the  living  faith. 

[Exeunt  Philip,  Pole,  Paget,  &>c 

Manet  Mary. 

He  hath  awaked  !  he  hath  awaked  ! 

He  stirs  within  the  darkness  ! 

Oh,  Philip,  husband  !  now  thy  love  to  mine 


134  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Will  cling  more  close,  and  those  bleak  manners  thaw, 

That  make  me  shamed  and  tongue-tied  in  my  love. 

The  second  Prince  of  Peace  — 

The  great  unborn  defender  of  the  Faith, 

Who  will  avenge  me  of  mine  enemies  — 

He  comes,  and  my  star  rises. 

The  stormy  Wyatts  and  Northumberlands, 

The  proud  ambitions  of  Elizabeth, 

And  all  her  fieriest  partisans  —  are  pale 

Before  my  star ! 

The  light  of  this  new  learning  wanes  and  dies : 

The  ghosts  of  Luther  and  Zuinglius  fade 

Into  the  deathless  hell  which  is  their  doom 

Before  my  star ! 

His  sceptre  shall  go  forth  from  Ind  to  Ind ! 

His  sword  shall  hew  the  heretic  peoples  down  ! 

His  faith  shall  clothe  the  world  that  will  be  his; 

Like  universal  air  and  sunshine  !     Open, 

Ye  everlasting  gates  !     The  King  is  here  !  — 

My  star,  my  son  ! 

Ejiter  Philip,  Duke  of  Alva,  &c. 
Oh,  Philip,  come  with  me ; 
Good  news  have  I  to  tell  you,  news  to  make 
Both  of  us  happy  —  ay  the  Kingdom  too. 
Nay  come  with  me  —  one  moment ! 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  135 

Philip  {to  Alva). 

More  than  that : 
There  was  one  here  of  late  —  William  the  Silent 
They  call  him  —  he  is  free  enough  in  talk, 
But  tells  me  nothing.     You  will  be,  we  trust,  ■ 
Some  time  the  viceroy  of  those  provinces  — 
He  must  deserve  his  surname  better. 


Alva. 


Ay,  sir; 


Inherit  the  Great  Silence. 


Philip. 

True  ;  the  provinces 
Are  hard  to  rule  and  must  be  hardly  ruled  ; 
Most  fruitful,  yet,  indeed,  an  empty  rind, 
All  hollow'd  out  with  stinging  heresies  ; 
And  for  their  heresies,  Alva,  they  will  fight : 
You  must  break  them  or  they  break  you. 

Alva  {proudly). 

The  first. 

Philip. 

Good  ! 

Well,  Madam,  this  new  happiness  of  mine.         [Exeunt. 


136  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Enter  Three  Pages. 

First  Page. 
News,  mates  !  a  miracle,  a  miracle  !  news  ! 
The  bells  must  ring ;  Te  Deums  must  be  sung ; 
The  Queen  hath  felt  the  motion  of  her  babe  ! 

Second  Page. 
Ay ;  but  see  here  ! 

First  Page. 
See  what  ? 

Second  Page. 

This  paper,  Dickon. 
I  found  it  fluttering  at  the  palace  gates  :  — 
"  The  Queen  of  England  is  delivered  of  a  dead  dog  ! 

Third  Page. 
These  are  the  things  that  madden  her.     Fie  upon  it. 

First  Page. 
Ay ;  but  I  hear  she  hath  a  dropsy,  lad 
Or  a  high-dropsy,  as  the  doctors  call  it 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  137 

Third  Page. 
Fie  on  her  dropsy,  so  she  have  a  dropsy! 
I  know  that  she  was  ever  sweet  to  me. 

First  Page. 
For  thou  and  thine  are  Roman  to  the  core. 

Third  Page. 
So  thou  and  thine  must  be.     Take  heed ! 

First  Page. 

Not  I, 
And  whether  this  flash  of  news  be  false  or  true, 
So  the  wine  run,  and  there  be  revelry, 
Content  am  I.     Let  all  the  steeples  clash, 
Till  the  sun  dance,  as  upon  Easter  Day. 

[Exeunt 


i2,S  Queen  Mary.  [act  in. 


SCENE   III.  — GREAT   HALL  IN  WHITEHALL. 

[  At  the  far  end  a  dais.  On  this  three  ehairs,  two  under 
one  canopy  for  Mary  and  Philip,  another  on  the  right 
of  these  for  Pole.  Under  the  dais  on  Pole's  side, 
ranged  along  the  wall,  sit  all  the  Spiritual  Peers, 
and  along  the  wall  opposite,  all  the  Temporal.  The 
Commons  on  cross  benches  in  front,  a  line  of  approach 
to  the  dais  between  them.  In  the  foreground  Sir  Ralph 
Bagenhall  and  other  Members  of  the  Commons.] 

First  Member. 
St.  Andrew's  clay ;  sit  close,  sit  close,  we  are  friends. 
Is  reconciled  the  word  ?  the  Pope  again  ? 
It  must  be  thus ;  and  yet,  cocksbody  !  how  strange 
That  Gardiner,  once  so  one  with  all  of  us 
Against  this  foreign  marriage,  should  have  yielded 
So  utterly  !  —  strange  !  but  stranger  still  that  he, 
So  fierce  against  the  Headship  of  the  Pope, 
Should  play  the  second  actor  in  this  pageant 
That  brings  him  in  ;  such  a  chameleon  he  1 

Second  Member. 

This  Gardiner  turn'd  his  coat  in  Henry's  time ; 
The  serpent  that  hath  slough'd  will  slough  again. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  139 

Third  Member. 
Tut,  then  we  all  are  serpents. 

Second  Member. 

Speak  for  yourself. 

Third  Member. 

Ay,  and  for  Gardiner  !  being  English  citizen, 

How  should  he  bear  a  bridegroom  out  of  Spain  ? 

The  Queen  would  have  him  !  being  English  churchman, 

How  should  he  bear  the  headship  of  the  Pope  ? 

The  Queen  would  have  it !     Statesmen  that  are  wise 

Shape  a  necessity,  as  the  sculptor  clay, 

To  their  own  model. 

Second  Member. 

Statesmen  that  are  wise 
Take  truth  herself  for  model,  what  say  you  ? 

[To  Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall. 

Bagenhall. 
We  talk  and  talk. 

First  Member. 
Ay,  and  what  use  to  talk  ? 
Philip's  no  sudden  alien  —  the  Queen's  husband, 


140  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

He's  here,  and  king,  or  will  be,  — yet  cocksbody  ! 

So  hated  here  !     I  watch'd  a  hive  of  late  ; 

My  seven-years'  friend  was  with  me,  my  young  boy ; 

Out  crept  a  wasp,  with  half  the  swarm  behind. 

"  Philip,"  says  he.     I  had  to  cuff  the  rogue 

For  infant  treason. 

Third  Member. 

But  they  say  that  bees, 
If  any  creeping  life  invade  their  hive 
Too  gross  to  be  thrust  out,  will  build  him  round, 
And  bind  him  in  from  harming  of  their  combs. 
And  Philip  by  these  articles  is  bound 
From  stirring  hand  or  foot  to  wrong  the  realm. 

Second  Member. 
By  bonds  of  beeswax,  like  your  creeping  thing; 
But  your  wise  bees  had  stung  him  first  to  death. 

Third  Member. 
Hush,  hush  ! 

You  wrong  the  Chancellor :  the  clauses  added 
To  that  same  treaty  which  the  emperor  sent  us 
Were  mainly  Gardiner's  :  that  no  foreigner 
Hold  office  in  the  household,  fleet,  forts,  army ; 
That  if  the  Queen  should  die  without  a  child, 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  141 

The  bond  between  the  kingdoms  be  dissolved  : 
That  Philip  should  not  mix  us  any  way 
With  his  French  wars  — - 

Second  Member. 

Ay,  ay,  but  what  security, 
Good  sir,  for  this,  if  Philip  — 

Third  Member. 

Peace  —  the  Queen, 
Philip,  and  Pole. 

[All  rise,  and  stand. 

Enter  Mary,  Philip,  and  Pole. 
[Gardiner  conducts  them  to  the  three  chairs  oj 
state.     Philip  sits  on  the  Queen's  left,  Pole 
on  her  right. 

Gardiner. 

Our  short-lived  sun,  before  his  winter  plunge, 
Laughs  at  the  last  red  leaf,  and  Andrew's  Day. 

Mary. 

Should  not  this  clay  be  held  in  after  years 
More  solemn  than  of  old  ? 


142  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Philip. 

Madam,  my  wish 
Echoes  your  Majesty's. 

Pole. 
It  shall  be  so. 

Gardiner. 
Mine  echoes  both  your  Graces' ;  {aside)  but  the  Pope  — 
Can  we  not  have  the  Catholic  church  as  well 
Without  as  with  the  Italian?  if  we  cannot, 
Why  then  the  Pope. 

My  lords  of  the  upper  house, 
And  ye,  my  masters,  of  the  lower  house, 
Do  ye  stand  fast  by  that  which  ye  resolved  ? 

Voices. 
We  do. 

Gardiner. 

And  be  you  all  one  mind  to  supplicate 

The  Legate  here  for  pardon,  and  acknowledge 

The  primacy  of  the  Pope  ? 

Voices. 

We  are  all  one  mind. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  143 

Gardiner. 

Then  must  I  play  the  vassal  to  this  Pole.  [Aside. 

\He  draws   a  paper  from  under  his  robes  and 

presents  it  to  the  King  and  Queen,  who  look 

through  it  and  "".turn  it  to  him  ;  then  ascendi 

a  tribune,  and  reads. 

We,  the  Lords  Spiritual  and  Temporal, 

And  Commons  here  in  Parliament  assembled, 

Presenting  the  whole  body  of  this  realm 

Of  England,  and  dominions  of  the  same, 

Do  make  most  humble  suit  unto  your  Majesties, 

In  our  own  name  and  that  of  all  the  state, 

That  by  your  gracious  means  and  intercession 

Our  supplication  be  exhibited 

To  the  Lord  Cardinal  Pole,  sent  here  as  Legate 

From  our  most  holy  father  Julius,  Pope, 

And  from  the  apostolic  see  of  Rome  ; 

And  do  declare  our  penitence  and  grief 

For  our  long  schism  and  disobedience, 

Either  in  making  laws  and  ordinances 

Against  the  Holy  Father's  primacy, 

Or  else  by  doing  or  by  speaking  aught 

Which  might  impugn  or  prejudice  the  same  ; 

By  this  our  supplication  promising, 

As  well  for  our  own  selves  as  all  the  realm, 


144  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

That  now  we  be  and  ever  shall  be  quick, 
Under  and  with  your  Majesties'  authorities, 
To  do  to  the  utmost  all  that  in  us  lies 
Towards  the  abrogation  and  repeal 
Of  all  such  laws  and  ordinances  made ; 
Whereon  we  humbly  pray  your  Majesties, 
As  persons  undefiled  with  our  offence, 
So  to  set  forth  this  humble  suit  of  ours 
That  we  the  rather  by  your  intercession 
May  from  the  apostolic  see  obtain, 
Thro'  this  most  reverend  Father,  absolution, 
And  full  release  from  clanger  of  all  censures 
Of  Holy  Church  that  we  be  fall'n  into, 
So  that  we  may,  as  children  penitent, 
Be  once  again  received  into  the  bosom 
And  unity  of  Universal  Church ; 
And  that  this  noble  realm  thro'  after  years 
May  in  this  unity  and  obedience 
Unto  the  holy  see  and  reigning  Pope 
Serve  God  and  both  your  Majesties. 

Voices. 

Amen.     \AU  sit. 

\_He  again  presents  the  petition  to  the  King 
and  Queen,  who  hand  it  reverentially  to 
Pole. 


scene  ill.]  Queen  Mary.  145 

Pole  {sitting). 

This  is  the  loveliest  day  that  ever  smiled 

On  England.     All  her  breath  should,  incense  like, 

Rise' to  the  heavens  in  grateful  praise  of  Him 

Who  now  recalls  her  to  his  ancient  fold. 

Lo  !  once  again  God  to  this  realm  hath  given 

A  token  of  His  more  especial  Grace  ; 

For  as  this  people  were  the  first  of  all 

The  islands  call'd  into  the  dawning  church 

Out  of  the  dead,  deep  night  of  heathendom, 

So  now  are  these  the  first  whom  God  hath  given 

Grace  to  repent  and  sorrow  for  their  schism  ; 

And  if  your  penitence  be  not  mockery, 

Oh  how  the  blessed  angels  who  rejoice 

Over  one  saved  do  triumph  at  this  hour 

In  the  reborn  salvation  of  a  land 

So  noble.  [A  pause. 

For  ourselves  we  do  protest 

That  our  commission  is  to  heal,  not  harm  ; 

We  come  not  to  condemn,  but  reconcile ; 

We  come  not  to  compel,  but  call  again  ; 

We  come  not  to  destroy,  but  edify  ; 

Nor  yet  to  question  things  already  done ; 

These  are  forgiven  —  matters  of  the  past — 

And  range  with  jetsam  and  with  offal  thrown 

Into  the  blind  sea  of  forgetfulness.  [A pause. 

10 


146  Queen  Mary.  [act  in. 

Ye  have  reversed  the  attainder  laid  on  us 

By  him  who  sack'd  the  house  of  God  ;  and  we, 

Amplier  than  any  field  on  our  poor  earth 

Can  render  thanks  in  fruit  for  being  sown, 

Do  here  and  now  repay  you  sixty-fold, 

A  hundred,  yea,  a  thousand  thousand-fold, 

With  heaven  for  earth. 

\Rising  and  stretching  forth  his  hands.     AH  kneel 

but  Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall,  who  rises  and 

remains  standing. 

The  Lord  who  hath  redeem'd  us 
With  his  own  blood,  and  wash'd  us  from  our  sins, 
To  purchase  for  Himself  a  stainless  bride  ; 
He,  whom  the  Father  hath  appointed  Head 
Of  all  his  church,  He  by  His  mercy  absolve  you ! 

[A  pause. 
And  we  by  that  authority  Apostolic 
Given  unto  us,  his  Legate,  by  the  Pope, 
Our  Lord  and  Holy  Father,  Julius, 
God's  Vicar  and  Vicegerent  upon  earth, 
Do  here  absolve  you  and  deliver  you 
And  every  one  of  you,  and  all  the  realm 
And  its  dominions  from  all  heresy, 
All  schism,  and  from  all  and  every  censure, 
J  udgment,  and  pain  accruing  thereupon  ; 
And  also  we  restore  you  to  the  bosom 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  147 

And  unity  of  Universal  Church.  {Turning io  Gardiner. 
Our  letters  of  commission  will  declare  this  plainlier. 

[Queen  heard  sobbing.     Cries  of  Amen  !  Amen  ! 

Some  of  the   members   embrace  one  another. 

All  but  Sir   Ralph  Bagenhall  pass  out 

into  the  neighboring  chapel,  zvhence  is  heard 

the  Te  Deum. 

Bagenhall. 

We  strove  against  the  papacy  from  the  first, 

In  William's  time,  in  our  first  Edward's  time, 

And  in  my  master  Henry's  time ;  but  now, 

The  unity  of  Universal  Church, 

Mary  would  have  it ;  and  this  Gardiner  follows ; 

The  unity  of  Universal  Hell, 

Philip  would  have  it ;  and  this  Gardiner  follows  ! 

A  Parliament  of  imitative  apes  ! 

Sheep  at  the  gap  which  Gardiner  takes,  who  not 

Believes  the  Pope,  nor  any  of  them  believe  — 

These  spaniel-Spaniard  English  of  the  time, 

Who  rub  their  fawning  noses  in  the  dust, 

For  that  is  Philip's  gold-dust,  and  adore 

This  Vicar  of  their  Vicar.     Would  I  had  been 

Born  Spaniard  !     I  had  held  my  head  up  then. 

I  am  ashamed  that  I  am  Bagenhall, 

English. 


148  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Enter  Officer. 

Officer. 
Sir  Ralph  Bagenhall. 

Bagenhall. 

What  of  that  ? 

Officer. 
You  were  the  one  sole  man  in  either  house 
Who  stood  upright  when  both  the  houses  fell. 

Bagenhall. 
The  houses  fell ! 

Officer. 

I  mean  the  houses  knelt 
Before  the  Legate. 

Bagenhall. 

Do  not  scrimp  your  phrase, 
But  stretch  it  wider ;  say  when  England  fell. 

Officer. 
1  say  you  were  the  one  sole  man  who  stood. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  149 

Bagenhall. 

I  am  the  one  sole  man  in  either  house, 
Perchance  in  England,  loves  her  like  a  son. 

Officer. 
Well,  you  one  man,  because  you  stood  upright, 
tier  Grace  the  Queen  commands  you  to  the  Tower. 

Bagenhall. 
As  traitor,  or  as  heretic,  or  for  what  ? 

Officer. 

If  any  man  in  any  way  would  be 

The  one  man  he  shall  be  so  to  his  cost. 

Bagenhall. 
What !  will  she  have  my  head  ? 

Officer. 

A  round  fine  likelier. 
Your  pardon.  {Calling  to  Attendant. 

By  the  river  to  the  Tower. 

{Exeunt 


150  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 


SCENE  IV.  — WHITEHALL.    A  ROOM  IN  THE 

PALACE. 

Mary,  Gardiner,  Pole,  Paget,  Bonner,  &c. 

Mary. 

The  king  and  I,  my  Lords,  now  that  all  traitors 
Against  our  royal  state  have  lost  the  heads 
Wherewith  they  plotted  in  their  treasonous  malice, 
Have  talk'd  together,  and  are  well  agreed 
That  those  old  statutes  touching  Lollardism 
To  bring  the  heretic  to  the  stake,  should  be 
No  longer  a  dead  letter,  but  requicken'd. 

One  of  the  Council. 

Why,  what  hath  fluster'd  Gardiner  ?  how  he  nabs 
His  forelock. 

Paget. 

I  have  changed  a  word  with  him 
In  coming,  and  may  change  a  word  again. 

Gardiner. 

Madam,  your  Highness  is  our  sun,  the  King 

And  you  together  our  two  suns  in  one ; 

And  so  the  beams  of  both  may  shine  upon  us, 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  151 

The  faith  that  seem'd  to  droop  will  feel  your  light, 

Lift  head,  and  flourish ;   yet  not  light  alone, 

There  must  be  heat  —  there  must  be  heat  enough 

To  scorch  and  wither  heresy  to  the  root. 

For  what  saith  Christ  ?     "  Compel  them  to  come  in." 

And  what  saith  Paul  ?     "I  would  they  were  cut  off 

That  trouble  you."     Let  the  dead  letter  live  ! 

Trace  it  in  fire,  that  all  the  louts  to  whom 

Their  ABCis  darkness,  clowns  and  grooms 

May  read  it !  so  you  quash  rebellion  too, 

For  heretic  and  traitor  are  all  one  : 

Two  vipers  of  one  breed  —  an  amphisbcena, 

Each  end  a  sting  :    Let  the  dead  letter  burn  ! 

Paget. 
Yet  there  be  some  disloyal  Catholics, 
And  many  heretics  loyal ;   heretic  throats 
Cried  no  God-bless-her  to  the  Lady  Jane, 
But  shouted  in  Queen  Mary.     So  there  be 
Some  traitor-heretic,  there  is  axe  and  cord. 
To  take  die  lives  of  others  that  are  loyal, 
And  by  the  churchman's  pitiless  doom  of  fire 
Were  but  a  thankless  policy  in  the  crown, 
Ay,  and  against  itself;  for  there  are  many. 

Mary. 
If  we  could  burn  out  heresy,  my  Lord  Paget, 


152  Queen  Mary.  [act  ill. 

We  reck  not  tho'  we  lost  this  crown  of  England  — 
Ay  !  tho'  it  were  ten  Englands  ! 

Gardiner. 

Right,  your  Grace. 
Paget,  you  are  all  for  this  poor  life  of  ours, 
And  care  but  little  for  the  life  to  be. 

Paget. 

I  have  some  time,  for  curiousness,  my  Lord, 
Watch'd  children  playing  at  their  life  to  be, 
And  cruel  at  it,  killing  helpless  flies  ; 
Such  is  our  time  —  all  times  for  aught  I  know. 

Gardiner. 

We  kill  the  heretics  that  sting  the  soul  — 
They,  with  right  reason,  flies  that  prick  the  flesh. 

Paget. 
They  had  not  reach'd  right  reason  ;   little  children  ! 
They  kill'd  but  for  their  pleasure  and  the  power 
They  felt  in  killing. 

Gardiner. 
A  spice  of  Satan,  ha  ! 
Why,  good  !  what  then  ?  granted  !  —  we  are  fallen  crea- 
tures ; 
Look  to  your  Bible,  Paget !  we  are  fallen. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  153 

Paget. 

I  am  but  of  the  laity,  my  Lord  Bishop, 
And  may  not  read  your  Bible,  yet  I  found 
One  day,  a  wholesome  scripture,  "Little  children, 
Love  one  another." 

Gardiner. 

Did  you  find  a  scripture, 
"  I  come  not  to  bring  peace  but  a  sword  "  ?    The  sword 
Is  in  her  Grace's  hand  to  smite  with.     Paget, 
You  stand  up  here  to  fight  for  heresy, 
You  are  more  than  guess'd  at  as  a  heretic, 
And  on  the  steep-up  track  of  the  true  faith 
Your  lapses  are  far  seen. 

Paget. 

The  faultless  Gardiner ! 

Mary. 
You  brawl  beyond  the  question  ;  speak,  Lord  Legate. 

Pole. 
Indeed,  I  cannot  follow  with  your  Grace, 
Rather  would  say  —  the  shepherd  doth  not  kill 
The  sheep  that  wander  from  his  flock,  but  sends 
His  careful  dog  to  bring  them  to  the  fold. 


154  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Look  to  the  Netherlands,  wherein  have  been 
Such  holocausts  of  heresy  !  to  what  end  ? 
For  yet  the  faith  is  not  established  there. 

Gardiner. 
The  end's  not  come. 

Pole. 
No  —  nor  this  way  will  ccme, 
Seeing  there  lie  two  ways  to  every  end, 
A  better  and  a  worse  —  the  worse  is  here 
To  persecute,  because  to  persecute 
Makes  a  faith  hated,  and  is  furthermore 
No  perfect  witness  of  a  perfect  faith 
In  him  who  persecutes :  when  men  are  tost 
On  tides  of  strange  opinion,  and  not  sure 
Of  their  own  selves,  they  are  wroth  with  their  own  selves, 
And  thence  with  others  ;  then,  who  lights  the  fagot  ? 
Not  the  full  faith,  no,  but  the  lurking  doubt. 
Old  Rome,  that  first  made  martyrs  in  the  Church, 
Trembled  for  her  own  gods,  for  these  were  trembling  — ■ 
But  when  did  our  Rome  tremble  ? 


Paget. 
In  Henry's  time  and  Edward's  ? 


Did  she  not 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  155 

Pole. 

What,  my  Lord  I 
The  Church  on  Peter's  rock  ?  never  !  I  have  seen 
A  pine  in  Italy  that  cast  its  shadow 
Athwart  a  cataract  \  firm  stood  the  pine  — 
The  cataract  shook  the  shadow.     To  my  mind, 
The  cataract  typed  the  headlong  plunge  and  fall 
Of  heresy  to  the  pit :  the  pine  was  Rome. 
You  see,  my  Lords, 

It  was  the  shadow  of  the  Church  that  trembled; 
Your  church  was  but  the  shadow  of  a  church, 
Wanting  the  triple  mitre. 

Gardiner  (nuittering). 

Here  be  tropes. 

Pole. 

And  tropes  are  good  to  clothe  a  naked  truth, 
And  make  it  look  more  seemly. 

Gardiner. 

Tropes  again ! 

Pole. 

You  are  hard  to  please.     Then  without  tropes,  my  Lord, 

An  overmuch  severeness,  I  repeat, 

When  faith  is  wavering  makes  the  waverer  pass 


156  Queen  Mary.  [act  iii 

Into  more  settled  hatred  of  the  doctrines 

Of  those  who  rule,  which  hatred  by  and  by 

Involves  the  ruler  (thus  there  springs  to  light 

That  Centaur  of  a  monstrous  Commonweal, 

The  traitor-heretic)  then  tho'  some  may  quail, 

Yet  others  are  that  dare  the  stake  and  fire, 

And  their  strong  torment  bravely  borne,  begets 

An  admiration  and  an  indignation, 

And  hot  desire  to  imitate ;  so  the  plague 

Of  schism  spreads ;  were  there  but  three  or  four 

Of  these  misleaders,  yet  I  would  not  say 

Burn  !  and  we  cannot  burn  whole  towns  ;  they  are  many 

As  my  Lord  Paget  says. 

Gardiner. 

Yet  my  Lord  Cardinal  — 

Pole. 

I  am  your  Legate  ;  please  you  let  me  finish. 
Methinks  that  under  our  Queen's  regimen 
We  might  go  softlier  than  with  crimson  rowel 
And  streaming  lash.     When  Herod-Henry  first 
Began  to  batter  at  your  English  Church, 
This  was  the  cause,  and  hence  the  judgment  on  her. 
She  seethed  with  such  adulteries,  and  the  lives 
Of  many  among  your  churchmen  were  so  foul 


scene  iv.J  Queen  Mary.  157 

That  heaven  wept  and  earth  blush'd.     I  would  advise 
That  we  should  thoroughly  cleanse  the  Church  within 
Before  these  bitter  statutes  be  requicken'd. 
So  after  that  when  she  once  more  is  seen 
White  as  the  light,  the  spotless  bride  of  Christ, 
Like  Christ  himself  on  Tabor,  possibly 
The  Lutheran  may  be  won  to  her  again  ; 
Till  when,  my  Lords,  I  counsel  tolerance. 

Gardiner. 

What,  if  a  mad  dog  bit  your  hand,  my  Lord, 

Would  you  not  chop  the  bitten  finger  off, 

Lest  your  whole  body  should  madden  with  the  poison  ? 

I  would  not,  were  I  Queen,  tolerate  the  heretic, 

No,  not  an  hour.     The  ruler  of  a  land 

Is  bounden  by  his  power  and  place  to  see 

His  people  be  not  poison'd.     Tolerate  them  ! 

Why  ?  do  they  tolerate  you  ?     Nay,  many  of  them 

Would  burn  —  have  burnt  each  other  ;  call  they  not 

The  one  true  faith,  a  loathsome  idol-worship  ? 

Beware,  Lord  Legate,  of  a  heavier  crime 

Than  heresy  is  itself ;  beware  I  say, 

Lest  men  accuse  you  of  indifference 

To  all  faiths,  all  religion  ;  for  you  know 

Right  well  that  you  yourself  have  been  supposed 

Tainted  with  Lutheranism  in  Italy. 


158  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi 

Pole  {angered). 
But  you,  my  Lord,  beyond  all  supposition, 
In  clear  and  open  day  were  congruent 
With  that  vile  Cranmer  in  the  accursed  lie 
Of  good  Queen  Catherine's  divorce — the  spring 
Of  all  those  evils  that  have  flow'd  upon  vis  ; 
For  you  yourself  have  truckled  to  the  tyrant, 
And  done  your  best  to  bastardize  our  Queen, 
For  which  God's  righteous  judgment  fell  upon  you 
In  your  five  years  of  imprisonment,  my  Lord, 
Under  young  Edward.     Who  so  bolster'd  up 
The  gross  King's  headship  of  the  Church,  or  more 
Denied  the  Holy  Father  ! 

Gardiner. 

Ha!  what!  eh? 
But  you,  my  Lord,  a  polish'd  gentleman, 
A  bookman,  flying  from  the  heat  and  tussle, 
You  lived  among  your  vines  and  oranges, 
In  your  soft  Italy  yonder !     You  were  sent  for, 
You  were  appeal'd  to,  but  you  still  preferr'd 
Your  learned  leisure.     As  for  what  I  did 
I  suffer'd  and  repented.     You,  Lord  Legate 
And  Cardinal-Deacon,  have  not  now  to  learn 
That  ev'n  St.  Peter  in  his  time  of  fear 
Denied  his  Master,  ay,  and  thrice,  my  Lord. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  159 

Pole. 
But  not  for  five  and  twenty  years,  my  Lord. 

Gardiner. 
Ha  !  good  !  it  seems  then  I  was  summon'd  hither 
But  to  be  mock'd  and  baited.     Speak,  friend  Bonner, 
And  tell  this  learned  Legate  he  lacks  zeal. 
The  Church's  evil  is  not  as  the  King's, 
Cannot  be  heal'd  by  stroking.     The  mad  bite 
Must  have  the  cautery  —  tell  him  —  and  at  once. 
What  wouldst  thou  do  hadst  thou  his  power,  thou 
That  layest  so  long  in  heretic  bonds  with  me. 
Wouldst  thou  not  burn  and  blast  them  root  and  branch  ? 

Bonner. 
Ay,  after  you,  my  Lord. 

Gardiner. 
Nay,  God's  passion,  before  me  !  speak. 

Bonner. 
I  am  or.  fire  until  I  see  them  flame. 

Gardiner. 
Ay,  the  psalm-singing  weavers,  cobblers,  scum  — 


160  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi 

But  this  most  noble  prince  Plantagenet, 
Our  good  Queen's  cousin  —  dallying  over  seas 
Even  when  his  brother's,  nay,  his  noble  mother's, 
Head  fell  — 

Pole. 
Peace,  mad  man ! 
Thou  stirrest  up  a  grief  thou  canst  not  fathom. 
Thou  Christian  Bishop,  thou  Lord  Chancellor 
Of  England  !  no  more  rein  upon  thine  anger 
Than  any  child !     Thou  mak'st  me  much  ashamed 
That  I  was  for  a  moment  wroth  at  thee. 

Mary. 
I  come  for  counsel  and  ye  give  me  feuds, 
Like  dogs  that  set  to  watch  their  master's  gate, 
Fall,  when  the  thief  is  ev'n  within  the  walls, 
To  worrying  one  another.     My  Lord  Chancellor, 
You  have  an  old  trick  of  offending  us  ; 
And  but  that  you  are  art  and  part  with  us 
In  purging  heresy,  well  we  might,  for  this 
Your  violence  and  much  roughness  to  the  Legate, 
Have  shut  you  from  our  counsels.     Cousin  Pole, 
You  are  fresh  from  brighter  lands.     Retire  with  me. 
His  highness  and  myself  (so  you  allow  us) 
Will  let  you  learn  in  peace  and  privacy 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  161 

What  power  this  cooler  sun  of  England  hath 

In  breeding  Godless  vermin.     And  pray  Heaven 

That  you  may  see  according  to  our  sight. 

Come,  cousin.  [Exeunt  Queen  and  Pole,  &>c. 

Gardiner. 

Pole  has  the  Plantagenet  face, 
But  not  the  force  made  them  our  mightiest  kings. 
Fine  eyes  —  but  melancholy,  irresolute  — 
A  fine  beard,  Bonner,  a  very  full  fine  beard. 
But  a  weak  mouth,  an  indeterminate  —  ha  ? 

Bonner. 
Well,  a  weak  mouth,  perchance. 

Gardiner. 

And  not  like  thine 
To  gorge  a  heretic  whole,  roasted  or  raw. 

Bonner. 
I'd  do  my  best,  my  Lord ;  but  yet  the  Legate 
Is  here  as  Pope  and  Master  of  the  Church, 
And  if  he  go  not  with  you — 

Gardiner. 

Tut,  Master  Bishop, 
Our  bashful  Legate,  saw'st  not  how  he  flush'd  ? 
ii 


1 62  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Touch  him  upon  his  old  heretical  talk, 
He'll  burn  a  diocese  to  prove  his  orthodoxy. 
And  let  him  call  me  truckler.     In  those  times, 
Thou  knowest  we  had  to  doclge,  or  duck,  or  die ; 
I  kept  my  head  for  use  of  Holy  Church ; 
And  see  you,  we  shall  have  to  dodge  again, 
And  let  the  Pope  trample  our  rights,  and  plunge 
His  foreign  fist  into  our  island  Church 
To  plump  the  leaner  pouch  of  Italy. 
For  a  time,  for  a  time. 

Why  ?  that  these  statutes  may  be  put  in  force, 
And  that  his  fan  may  thoroughly  purge  his  floor. 

Bonner. 
So  then  you  hold  the  Pope  — 

Gardiner. 

I  hold  the  Pope  ! 
What  do  I  hold  him  ?  what  do  I  hold  the  Pope  ? 
Come,  come,  the  morsel  stuck  —  this  Cardinal's  fault  — 
I  have  gulpt  it  down.     I  am  wholly  for  the  Pope, 
Utterly  and  altogether  for  the  Pope, 
The  Eternal  Peter  of  the  changeless  chair, 
Crown'd  slave  of  slaves,  and  mitred  king  of  kings, 
God  upon  earth  !  what  more  ?  what  would  you  have  ? 
Hence,  let's  be  gone. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  163 

Enter  Usher.  „ 

Usher. 

Well  that  you  be  not  gone, 
My  Lord.     The  Queen,  most  wroth  at  first  with  you, 
Is  now  content  to  grant  you  full  forgiveness, 
So  that  you  crave  full  pardon  of  the  Legate. 
I  am  sent  to  fetch  you. 

Gardiner., 

Doth  Pole  yield,  sir,  ha  ! 
Did  you  hear  'em  ?  were  you  by  ? 

Usher. 

I  cannot  tell  you, 
His  bearing  is  so  courtly-delicate  ; 
And  yet  methinks  he  falters  :  their  two  Graces 
Do  so  dear-cousin  and  royal-cousin  him, 
So  press  on  him  the  duty  which  as  Legate 
He  owes  himself,  and  with  such  royal  smiles  — 

Gardiner. 

Smiles  that.burn  men.     Bonner,  it  will  be  carried. 
He  falters,  ha  ?  'fore  God  we  change  and  change  ; 
Men  now  are  bow'd  and  old,  the  doctors  tell  you, 
At  threescore  years ;  then  if  we  change  at  all 


164  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

We  needs  must  do  it  quickly  ;  it  is  an  age 

Of  brief  life,  and  brief  purpose,  and  brief  patience, 

As  I  have  shown  to-day.     I  am  sorry  for  it 

If  Pole  be  like  to  turn.     Our  old  friend  Cranmer, 

Your  more  especial  love,  hath  turn'd  so  often, 

He  knows  not  where  he  stands,  which,  if  this  pass, 

We  two  shall  have  to  teach  him  ;  let  'em  look  to  it, 

Cranmer  and  Hooper,  Ridley  and  Latimer, 

Rogers  and  Ferrar,  for  their  time  is  come, 

Their  hour  is  hard  at  hand,  their  "  dies  Irae," 

Their  "  dies  Ilia,"  which  will  test  their  sect. 

I  feel  it  but  a  duty  —  you  will  find  in  it 

Pleasure  as  well  as  duty,  worthy  Bonner,  — 

To  test  their  sect.     Sir,  I  attend  the  Queen 

To  crave  most  humble  pardon  —  of  her  most 

Royal,  Infallible,  Papal  Legate-cousin. 

[Exeunt, 


SCENE  V.— WOODSTOCK. 

Elizadeth,  Lady  in  Waiting. 

Lady. 
The  colors  of  our  Queen  are  green  and  white, 
These  fields  are  only  green,  they  make  me  gape. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  165 

Elizabeth. 
There's  whitethorn,  girl. 

Lady. 
Ay,  for  an  hour  in  May. 
But  court  is  always  May,  buds  out  in  masks, 
lireaks  into  feather 'd  merriments,  and  flowers 
In  silken  pageants.     Why  do  they  keep  us  here  ? 
Why  still  suspect  your  Grace  ? 

Elizabeth. 

Hard  upon  both. 

[  Writes  on  the  window  with  a  diamond. 

Much  suspected,  of  me 
Nothing  proven  can  be, 

Quoth  Elizabeth,  prisoner. 

Lady. 
What  hath  your  Highness  written  ? 

Elizabeth. 

A  true  rhyme. 

Lady. 

Cut  with  a  diamond  ;  so  to  last  l'\ke  truth. 

Elizabeth. 
Ay,  if  truth  last 


1 66  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Lady. 

But  truth,  they  say,  will  out, 
So  it  must  last.     It  is  not  like  a  word, 
That  comes  and  goes  in  uttering. 


Elizabeth. 

Truth,  a  word ! 
The  very  Truth  and  very  Word  are  one. 
But  truth  of  story,  which  I  glanced  at,  girl, 
Is  like  a  word  that  comes  from  olden  days, 
And  passes  thro'  the  peoples  :  every  tongue 
Alters  it  passing,  till  it  spells  and  speaks 
Quite  other  than  at  first. 

Lady. 

I  do  not  follow. 

Elizabeth. 

How  many  names  in  the  long  sweep  of  time 
That  so  foreshortens  greatness,  may  but  hang 
On  the  chance  mention  of  some  fool  that  once 
Brake  bread  with  us,  perhaps ;  and  my  poor  chronicle 
Is  but  of  glass.     Sir  Henry  Bedingfield 
May  split  it  for  a  spite. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  167 

Lady. 

God  grant  it  last, 
And  witness  to  your  Grace's  innocence, 
Till  doomsday  melt  it. 

Elizabeth. 

Or  a  second  fire, 
Like  that  which  lately  crackled  underfoot 
And  in  this  very  chamber,  fuse  the  glass, 
And  char  us  back  again  into  the  dust 
We  spring  from.     Never  peacock  against  rain 
Scream'd  as  you  did  for  water. 

Lady. 

And  I  got  it. 
I  woke  Sir  Henry  —  and  he's  true  to  you  — 
I  read  his  honest  horror  in  his  eyes. 

Elizabeth. 
Or  true  to  you  ? 

Lady. 

Sir  Henry  Bedingfield ! 
I  will  have  no  man  true  to  me,  your  Grace, 
But  one  that  pares  his  nails  ;  to  me  ?  the  clown ! 
For,  like  his  cloak,  his  manners  want  the  nap 


1 68  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

And  gloss  of  court ;  but  of  this  fire  he  says, 
Nay  swears,  it  was  no  wicked  wilfulness, 
Only  a  natural  chance. 

Elizabeth. 

A  chance  —  perchance 
One  of  those  wicked  wilfuls  that  men  make, 
Nor  shame  to  call  it  nature.     Nay,  I  know 
They  hunt  my  blood.     Save  for  my  daily  range 
Among  the  pleasant  fields  of  Holy  Writ 
I  might  despair.     But  there  hath  some  one  come ; 
The  house  is  all  in  movement.     Hence,  and  see. 

[Exit  Lady, 

Milkmaid  {singing  withoni). 
Shame  upon  you,  Robin, 

Shame  upon  you  now  ! 
Kiss  me  would  you  ?  with  my  hands 

Milking  the  cow  ? 

Daisies  grow  again, 

Kingcups  blow  again, 
And  you  came  and  kiss'd  me  milking  the  cow. 

Robin  came  behind  me, 

Kiss'd  me  well  I  vow ; 
Cuff  him  could  I  ?  with  my  hands 

Milking  the  cow  ? 

Swallows  fly  again, 

Cuckoos  cry  again, 
And  you  came  and  kiss'd  me  milking  the  cow. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  169 

Come,  Robin,  Robin, 

Come  and  kiss  me  now  ; 
Help  it  can  I  ?  with  my  hands 

Milking  the  cow  ? 

Ringdoves  coo  again, 

All  things  woo  again. 
Come  behind  and  kiss  me  milking  the  cow  ! 


Elizabeth. 

Right  honest  and  red-cheek'd  ;  Robin  was  violent, 

And  she  was  crafty  —  a  sweet  violence, 

And  a  sweet  craft.     I  would  I  were  a  milkmaid, 

To  sing,  love,  marry,  churn,  brew,  bake,  and  die, 

Then  have  my  simple  headstone  by  the  church, 

And  all  things  lived  and  ended  honestly. 

I  could  not  if  I  would.     I  am  Harry's  daughter : 

Gardiner  would  have  my  head.     They  are  not  sweet, 

The  violence  and  the  craft  that  do  divide 

The  world  of  nature ;  what  is  weak  must  lie  ; 

The  lion  needs  but  roar  to  guard  his  young ; 

The  lapwing  lies,  says  "  here  "  when  they  are  there. 

Threaten  the  child ;  "  I'll  scourge  you  if  you  did  it." 

What  weapon  hath  the  child,  save  his  soft  tongue, 

To  say  "  I  did  not  "  ?  and  my  rod's  the  block. 

I  never  lay  my  head  upon  the  pillow 

But  that  I  think,  "  Wilt  thou  lie  there  to-morrow  ?  " 


1 70  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

How  oft  the  falling  axe,  that  never  fell, 

Hath  shock'd  me  back  into  the  daylight  truth 

That  it  may  fall  to-day  !     Those  damp,  black,  dead 

Nights  in  the  Tower  ;  dead  —  with  the  fear  of  death  — 

Too  dead  ev'n  for  a  death-watch  !     Toll  of  a  bell, 

Stroke  of  a  clock,  the  scurrying  of  a  rat 

Affrighted  me,  and  then  delighted  me, 

For  there  was  life —  And  there  was  life  in  death  — 

The  little  murder'd  princes,  in  a  pale  light, 

Rose  hand  in  hand,  and  whisper'd,  "  come  away, 

The  civil  wars  are  gone  forevermore  : 

Thou  last  of  all  the  Tudors,  come  away, 

With  us  is  peace  !  "     The  last  ?     It  was  a  dream  ; 

I   must   not   dream,  not   wink,   but   watch.      She   has 

gone, 
Maid  Marian  to  her  Robin  —  by  and  by 
Both  happy  !  a  fox  may  filch  a  hen  by  night, 
And  make  a  morning  outcry  in  the  yard  ; 
But  there's  no  Renard  here  to  "  catch  her  tripping." 
Catch  me  who  can  ;  yet,. sometime  I  have  wish'd 
That  I  were  caught,  and  kill'd  away  at  once 
Out  of  the  flutter.     The  gray  rogue,  Gardiner, 
Went  on  his  knees,  and  pray'd  me  to  confess 
In  Wyatt's  business,  and  to  cast  myself 
Upon  the  good  Queen's  mercy ;  ay,  when,  my  Lord  ? 
God  save  the  Queen.     My  jailer — 


scene  v.]  Queen  Alary.  1 7 1 

Enter  Sir  Henry  Bedingfield. 

Bedingfield. 

One,  whose  bolts, 
That  jail  you  from  free  life,  bar  you  from  death. 
There  haunt  some  Papist  ruffians  hereabout 
Would  murder  you. 

Elizabeth. 

I  thank  you  heartily,  sir, 
But  I  am  royal,  tho'  your  prisoner, 
And  God  hath  blest  or  cursed  me  with  a  nose  — 
Your  boots  are  from  the"  horses. 

Bedingfield. 

Ay,  my  Lady. 
When  next  there  comes  a  missive  from  the  Queen 
It  shall  be  all  my  study  for  one  hour 
To  rose  and  lavender  my  horsiness, 
Before  I  dare  to  glance  upon  your  Grace. 

Elizabeth. 
A  missive  from  the  Queen  :  last  time  she  wrote, 
I  had  like  to  have  lost  my  life  :  it  takes  my  breath  : 
O  God,  sir,  do  you  look  upon  your  boots, 
Are  you  so  small  a  man  ?     Help  me  :  what  think  you, 
Is  it  life  or  death  ? 


1 72  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Bedingfield. 

I  thought  not  on  my  boots ; 
The  devil  take  all  boots  were  ever  made 
Since  man  went  barefoot.     See,  I  lay  it  here, 
For  I  will  come  no  nearer  to  your  Grace  ; 

[Laying  down  the  letter. 
And  whether  it  bring  you  bitter  news  or  sweet, 
And  God  have  given  your  Grace  a  nose,  or  not, 
I'll  help  you,  if  I  may. 

Elizabeth. 

Your  pardon,  then ; 
It  is  the  heat  and  narrowness  of  the  cage 
That  makes  the  captive  testy ;  with  free  wing 
The  world  were  all  one  Araby.     Leave  me  now, 
Will  you,  companion  to  myself,  sir  ? 

Bedingfield. 

Will  I  ? 
With  most  exceeding  willingness,  I  will ; 
You  know  I  never  come  till  I  be  calPd.  [Exit. 

Elizabeth. 
It  lies  there  folded :  is  there  venom  in  it  ? 
A  snake  —  and  if  I  touch  it,  it  may  sting. 
Come,  come,  the  worst ! 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  173 

Best  wisdom  is  to  know  the  worst  at  once. 

[Reads : 
"  It  is  the  King's  wish  that  you  should  wed  Prince 
Philibert  of  Savoy.     You  are  to  come  to  Court  on  the 
instant ;  and  think  of  this  in  your  coming. 

"Mary  the  Queen." 

Think  !  I  have  many  thoughts  ; 

I  think  there  may  be  birdlime  here  for  me ; 

I  think  they  fain  would  have  me  from  the  realm ; 

I  think  the  Queen  may  never  bear  a  child  ; 

I  think  that  I  may  be  sometime  the  Queen, 

Then,  Queen  indeed  :  no  foreign  prince  or  priest 

Should  fill  my  throne,  myself  upon  the  steps. 

I  think  I  will  not  marry  any  one, 

Specially  not  this  landless  Philibert 

Of  Savoy ;  but,  if  Philip  menace  me, 

I  think  that  I  will  play  with  Philibert,  — 

As  once  the  holy  father  did  with  mine, 

Before  my  father  married  my  good  mother,  — 

For  fear  of  Spain. 

Enter  Lady. 

Lady. 

O  Lord  !  your  Grace,  your  Grace 
I  feel  so  happy :  it  seems  that  we  shall  fly 


1 74  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

These  bald,  blank  fields,  and  dance  into  the  sun 
That  shines  on  princes. 

Elizabeth. 

Yet,  a  moment  since, 
I  wish'd  myself  the  milkmaid  singing  here, 
To  kiss  and  cuff  among  the  birds  and  flowers  — 
A  right  rough  life  and  healthful. 

Lady. 

But  the  wench 
Hath  her  own  troubles  ;  she  is  weeping  now  ; 
For  the  wrong  Robin  took  her  at  her  word. 
Then  the  cow  kick'd,  and  all  her  milk  was  spilt. 
Your  Highness  such  a  milkmaid  ? 

Elizabeth. 

I  had  kept 
My  Robins  and  my  cows  in  sweeter  order 
Had  I  been  such. 

Lady  {slyly). 
And  had  your  Grace  a  Robin. 

Elizabeth. 
Come,  come,  you  are  chill  here ;  you  want  the  sun 


scene  vi.]  Queen  Mary.  175 

That  shines  at  court  •  make  ready  for  the  journey. 
Pray  God,  we  'scape  the  sunstroke.     Ready  at  once. 

\Exeunt. 


SCENE    VI.  — LONDON.     A    ROOM    IN    THE 

PALACE. 

Lord  Petre  and  Lord  William  Howard. 

Petre. 

You  cannot  see  the  Queen.     Renard  denied  her, 
Ev'n  now  to  me. 

Howard. 

Their  Flemish  go-between 
And  all-in-all.     I  came  to  thank  her  Majesty 
For  freeing  my  friend  Bagenhall  from  the  Tower ; 
A  grace  to  me !     Mercy,  that  herb-of-grace, 
Flowers  now  but  seldom. 

Petre. 

Only  now  perhaps, 
Because  the  Queen  hath  been  three  days  in  tears 
For  Philip's  going  —  like  the  wild  hedge-rose 
Of  a  soft  winter,  possible,  not  probable, 
However,  you  have  prov'n  it. 


1 76  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Howard. 

I  must  see  her. 

Enter  Renard. 

Renard. 
My  Lords,  you  cannot  see  her  Majesty. 

Howard. 
Why  then  the  King  !  for  I  would  have  him  bring  it 
Home  to  the  leisure  wisdom  of  his  Queen, 
Before  he  go,  that  since  these  statutes  past, 
Gardiner  out-Gardiners  Gardiner  in  his  heat, 
Bonner  cannot  out-Bonner  his  own  self  — 
Beast !  —  but  they  play  with  fire  as  children  do, 
And  burn  the  house.     I  know  that  these  are  breeding 
A  fierce  resolve  and  fixt  heart-hate  in  men 
Against  the  King,  the  Queen,  the  Holy  Father, 
The  faith  itself.     Can  I  not  see  him  ? 

Renard. 

Not  now. 
And  in  all  this,  my  Lord,  her  Majesty 
Is  flint  of  flint,  you  may  strike  fire  from  her, 
Not  hope  to  melt  her.     I  will  give  your  message. 

[Exeunt  Petre  and  Howard. 


scene  vi.]  Queen  Mary.  177 

Enter  Philip  {musifig). 

Philip. 
She  will  not  have  Prince  Philibert  of  Savoy, 
I  talk'd  with  her  in  vain  —  says  she  will  live 
And  die  true  maid  —  a  goodly  creature  too. 
Would  she  had  been  the  Queen !  yet  she  must  have  him  ; 
She  troubles  England  :  that  she  breathes  in  Englmd 
Is  life  and  lungs  to  every  rebel  birth 
That  passes  out  of  embryo. 

Simon  Renard !  — 
This  Howard,  whom  they  fear,  what  was  he  saying  ? 

Renard. 
What  your  imperial  father  said,  my  liege, 
To  deal  with  heresy  gentlier.     Gardiner  burns, 
And  Bonner  burns  ;  and  it  would  seem  this  people 
Care  more  for  our  brief  life  in  their  wet  land, 
Than  yours  in  happier  Spain.     I  told  my  Lord 
He  should  not  vex  her  Highness  ;  she  would  say 
These  are  the  means  God  works  with,  that  His  church 
May  flourish. 

Philip. 
Ay,  sir,  but  in  statesmanship 
To  strike  too  soon  is  oft  to  miss  the  blow. 
Thou  knowest  I  bade  my  chaplain,  Castro,  preach 
Against  these  burnings. 


178  Qyeen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Renard. 

And  the  Emperor 
Approved  you,  and  when  last  he  wrote,  declared 
His  comfort  in  your  Grace  that  you  were  bland 
And  affable  to  men  of  all  estates, 
In  hope  to  charm  them  from  their  hate  of  Spain. 


Philip. 

In  hope  to  crush  all  heresy  under  Spain. 

But,  Renard,  I  am  sicker  staying  here 

Than  any  sea  could  make  me  passing  hence, 

Tho'  I  be  ever  deadly  sick  at  sea. 

So  sick  am  I  with  biding  for  this  child. 

Is  it  the  fashion  in  this  clime  for  women 

To  go  twelve  months  in  bearing  of  a  child  ? 

The  nurses  yawn'd,  the  cradle  gaped,  they  led 

Processions,  chanted  litanies,  clash'd  their  bells, 

Shot  off  their  lying  cannon,  and  her  priests 

Have  preach'd,  the  fools,  of  this  fair  prince  to  come, 

Till,  by  St.  James,  I  find  myself  the  fool. 

Why  do  you  lift  your  eyebrow  at  me  thus  ? 


Renard. 
I  never  saw  your  Highness  moved  till  noWi 


scene  vi.]  Queen  Mary.  1 79 

Philip. 

So,  weary  am  I  of  this  wet  land  of  theirs,. 
And  every  soul  of  man  that  breathes  therein. 

Renard. 

My  liege,  we  must  not  drop  the  mask  before 
The  masquerade  is  over  — 

Philip. 

—  Have  I  dropt  it  ? 
I  have  but  shown  a  loathing  face  to  you, 
Who  knew  it  from  the  first. 

Enter  Mary. 

Mary  (aside). 

With  Renard.     Still 
Parleying  with  Renard,  all  the  day  with  Renard, 
And  scarce  a  greeting  all  the  day  for  me  — 
And  goes  to-morrow.  {Exit  Mary. 

Philip  (to  Renard,  who  advances  to  him). 
Well,  sir,  is  there  more  ? 

Renard  (who  has  perceived  the  Queen). 
May  Simon  Renard  speak  a  single  word  ? 


*8o  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Philip. 

Ay. 

Renard. 

And  be  forgiven  for  it  ? 

Philip. 

Simon  Renard 
Knows  me  too  well  to  speak  a  single  word 
That  could  not  be  forgiven. 

Renard. 

Well,  my  liege, 
Your  Grace  hath  a  most  chaste  and  loving  wife. 

Philip. 
Why  not?     The  Queen  of  Philip  should  be  chaste. 

Renard. 
Ay,  but,  my  Lord,  you  know  what  Virgil  sings, 
Woman  is  various  and  most  mutable. 

Philip. 
She  play  the  harlot !  never 

Renard. 

No,  sire,  no, 


scene  vi.]     Queen  Mary.  181 

Not  dream'd  of  by  the  rabidest  gospeller. 
There  was  a  paper  thrown  into  the  palace, 
"  The  King  hath  wearied  of  his  barren  bride." 
She  came  upon  it,  read  it,  and  then  rent  it, 
With  all  the  rage  of  one  who  hates  a  truth 
He  cannot  but  allow.     Sire,  I  would  have  you  — 
What  should  I  say,  I  cannot  pick  my  words  — 
Be  somewhat  less  —  majestic  to  your  Queen. 

Philip. 

Am  I  to  change  my  manners,  Simon  Renard, 
Because  these  islanders  are  brutal  beasts  ? 
Or  would  you  have  me  turn  a  sonneteer, 
And  warble  those  brief -sigh  ted  eyes  of  hers  ? 

Renard. 

Brief-sighted  tho'  they  be,  I  have  seen  them,  sire, 
When  you  perchance  were  trifling  royally 
With  some  fair  dame  of  court,  suddenly  fill 
With  such  fierce  fire  —  had  it  been  fire  indeed 
It  would  have  burnt  both  speakers. 

Philip. 

Ay,  and  then  ? 


1 82  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Renard. 

Sire,  might  it  not  be  policy  in  some  matter 
Of  small  importance  now  and  then  to  cede 
A  point  to  her  demand  ? 

Philip. 
Well,  I  am  going. 

Renard. 
For  should  her  love  when  you  are  gone,  my  liege, 
Witness  these  papers,  there  will  not  be  wanting 
Those  that  will  urge  her  injury  —  should  her  love  — 
And  I  have  known  such  women  more  than  one  — 
Veer  to  the  counterpoint,  and  jealousy 
Hath  in  it  an  alchemic  force  to  fuse 
Almost  into  one  metal  love  and  hate,  — 
And  she  impress  her  wrongs  upon  her  Council, 
And  these  again  upon  her  Parliament  — 
We  are  not  loved  here,  and  would  be  then  perhaps 
Not  so  well  holpen  in  our  wars  with  France, 
As  else  we  might  be  —  here  she  comes. 


'!=>' 


Enter  Mary. 

Mary. 

O  Philip ! 

Nay,  must  you  go  indeed  ? 


scene  vi.]  Queen  Mary.  183 

Philip. 

Madam,  I  must. 

Mary. 

The  parting  of  a  husband  and  a  wife 
Is  like,  the  cleaving  of  a  heart ;  one  half 
Will  flutter  here,  one  there. 

Philip. 

You  say  true,  Madam. 

Mary. 

The  Holy  Virgin  will  not  have  me  yet 

Lose  the  sweet  hope  that  I  may  bear  a  prince. 

If  such  a  prince  were  born  and  you  not  here ! 

Philip. 
I  should  be  here  if  such  a  prince  were  born. 

Mary. 
But  must  you  go  ? 

Philip. 
Madam,  you  know  my  father, 
Retiring  into  cloistral  solitude 
To  yield  the  remnant  of  his  years  to  heaven, 


184  Queen  Mary.  [act  hi. 

Will  shift  the  yoke  and  weight  of  all  the  world 
From  off  his  neck  to  mine.     We  meet  at  Brussels. 
But  since  mine  absence  will  not  be  for  long, 
Your  Majesty  shall  go  to  Dover  with  me, 
And  wait  my  coming  back. 

Mary. 

To  Dover  ?  no, 
I  am  too  feeble.     I  will  go  to  Greenwich, 
So  you  will  have  me  with  you  ;  and  there  watch 
All  that  is  gracious  in  the  breath  of  heaven 
Draw  with  your  sails  from  our  poor  land,  and  pass 
And  leave  me,  Philip,  with  my  prayers  for  you. 

Philip. 
And  doubtless  I  shall  profit  by  your  prayers. 

Mary. 

Methinks  that  would  you  tarry  one  day  more 
(The  news  was  sudden)  I  could  mould  myself 
To  bear  your  going  better ;  will  you  do  it  ? 

Philip. 
Madam,  a  day  may  sink  or  save  a  realm. 


scene  vi.]  Queen  Mary.  185 

Mary. 
A  day  may  save  a  heart  from  breaking  too. 

Philip. 
Well,  Simon  Renard,  shall  we  stop  a  day  ? 

Renard. 

Your  Grace's  business  will  not  suffer,  sire, 
For  one  day  more,  so  far  as  I  can  tell. 

Philip. 
Then  one  day  more  to  please  her  Majesty. 

Mary. 

The  sunshine  sweeps  across  my  life  again. 

0  if  I  knew  you  felt  this  parting,  Philip, 
As  I  do ! 

Philip. 

By  St.  James  I  do  protest, 
Upon  the  faith  and  honor  of  a  Spaniard, 

1  am  vastly  grieved  to  leave  your  Majesty. 
Simon,  is  supper  ready  ? 


1 86  Queen  Mary.  [act  iil, 

Renard. 

Ay,  my  liege, 
I  saw  the  covers  laying. 

Philip. 
Let  us  have  it.  [Exeutit. 


Queen  Mary.  187 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE  L  — A  ROOM  IN  THE  PALACE. 

Mary,  Cardinal  Pole. 

Mary. 
What  have  you  there  ? 

Pole. 

So  please  your  Majesty, 
A  long  petition  from  the  foreign  exiles 
To  spare  the  life  of  Cranmer.     Bishop  Thirlby, 
And  my  Lord  Paget  and  Lord  William  Howard, 
Crave,  in  the  same  cause,  hearing  of  your  Grace. 
Hath  he  not  written  himself  —  infatuated  — 
To  sue  you  for  his  life  ? 

Mary. 

His  life  ?     Oh,  no  ; 
Not  sued  for  that  —  he  knows  it  were  in  vain. 
But  so  much  of  the  anti-papal  leaven 
Works  in  him  yet,  he  hath  pray'd  me  not  to  sully 


1 88  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv 

Mine  own  prerogative,  and  degrade  the  realm 
By  seeking  justice  at  a  stranger's  hand 
Against  my  natural  subject.     King  and  Queen, 
To  whom  he  owes  his  loyalty  after  God, 
Shall  these  accuse  him  to  a  foreign  prince  ? 
Death  would  not  grieve  him  more.     I  cannot  be 
True  to  this  realm  of  England  and  the  Pope 
Together,  says  the  heretic. 

Pole. 

And  there  errs ; 
As  he  hath  ever  err'd  thro'  vanity. 
A  secular  kingdom  is  but  as  the  body 
Lacking  a  soul ;  and  in  itself  a  beast. 
The  Holy  Father  in  a  secular  kingdom 
Is  as  the  soul  descending  out  of  heaven 
Into  a  body  generate. 

Mary. 

Write  to  him,  then. 

Pole. 
I  will. 

Mary. 
And  sharply,  Pole. 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  189 

Pole. 
Here  come    the  Cranmerites  ! 

Enter  Thirley,  Lord  Paget,  Lord  William  Howard. 

Howard. 
Health  to  your  Grace.    Good-morrow,  my  Lord  Cardinal ; 
We  make  our  humble  prayer  unto  your  Grace 
That  Cranmer  may  withdraw  to  foreign  parts, 
Or  into  private  life  within  the  realm. 
In  several  bills  and  declarations,  Madam, 
He  hath  recanted  all  his  heresies. 

Paget. 
Ay,  ay  ;  if  Bonner  have  not  forged  the  bills.         [Aside. 

Mary. 
Did  not  More  die,  and  Fisher  ?  he  must  burn. 

Howard. 
He  hath  recanted,  Madam. 

Mary. 

The  better  for  him. 
He  burns  in  Purgatory,  not  in  Hell. 

Howard. 
Ay,  ay,  your  Grace  j  but  it  was  never  seen 


1 90  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

That  any  one  recanting  thus  at  full, 

As  Cranmer  hath,  came  to  the  fire  on  earth. 

Mary. 
It  will  be  seen  now,  then. 

Thirlby. 

O  Madam,  Madam ! 
I  thus  implore  you,  low  upon  my  knees, 
To  reach  the  hand  of  mercy  to  my  friend. 
I  have  err'd  with  him ;  with  him  I  have  recanted. 
What  human  reason  is  there  why  my  friend 
Should  meet  with  lesser  mercy  than  myself  ? 

Mary. 

My  Lord  of  Ely,  this.     After  a  riot 

We  hang  the  leaders,  let  their  following  go. 

Cranmer  is  head  and  father  of  these  heresies, 

New  learning  as  they  call  it ;  yea,  may  God 

Forget  me  at  most  need  when  I  forget 

Her  foul  divorce  —  my  sainted  mother  —  No  !  — 

Howard. 
Ay,  ay,  but  mighty  doctors  doubted  there. 
The  Pope  himself  waver'd  ;  and  more  than  one 
Row'd  in  that  galley  —  Gardiner  to  wit, 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  191 

Whom  truly  I  deny  not  to  have  been 
Your  faithful  friend  and  trusty  councillor. 
Hath  not  your  Highness  ever  read  his  book, 
His  tractate  upon  True  Obedience, 
Writ  by  himself  and  Bonner  ? 

Mary. 

I  will  take 
Such  order  with  all  bad,  heretical  books 
That  none  shall  hold  them  in  his  house  and  live, 
Henceforward.     No,  my  Lord. 

Howard. 

Then  never  read  it. 
The  truth  is  here.     Your  father  was  a  man 
Of  such  colossal  kinghood,  yet  so  courteous, 
Except  when  wroth,  you  scarce  could  meet  his  eye 
And  hold  your  own  ;  and  were  he  wroth  indeed, 
You  held  it  less,  or  not  at  all.     I  say, 
Your  father  had  a  will  that  beat  men  down  ; 
Your  father  had  a  brain  that  beat  men  down  — 

Pole. 
Not  me,  my  Lord. 

Howard. 
No,  for  you  were  not  here ; 


192  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

You  sit  upon  this  fallen  Cranmer's  throne  ; 
And  it  would  more  become  you,  my  Lord  Legate, 
To  join  a  voice,  so  potent  with  her  Highness, 
To  ours  in  plea  for  Cranmer  than  to  stand 
On  naked  self-assertion. 

Mary. 
All  your  voices 
Are  waves  on  flint.     The  heretic  must  burn. 

Howard. 
tfet  once  he  saved  your  Majesty's  own  life; 
Stood  out  against  the  King  in  your  behalf, 
At  his  own  peril. 

Mary. 
I  know  not  if  he  did ; 
And  if  he  did  I  care  not,  my  Lord  Howard. 
My  life  is  not  so  happy,  no  such  boon, 
That  I  should  spare  to  take  a  heretic  priest's, 
Who  saved  it  or  not  saved.     Why  do  you  vex  me  ? 

Paget. 
Yet  to  save  Cranmer  were  to  save  the  Church, 
Your  Majesty's  I  mean  ;  he  is  effaced, 
Self-blotted  out  \  so  wounded  in  his  honor, 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  193 

He  can  but  creep  down  into  some  dark  hole 

Like  a  hurt  beast,  and  hide  himself  and  die  ; 

But  if  you  burn  him,  —  well,  your  Highness  knows 

The  saying,  "  Martyr's  blood  —  seed  of  the  Church." 

Mary. 

Of  the  true  Church  ;  but  his  is  none,  nor  will  be. 
You  are  too  politic  for  me,  my  Lord  Paget. 
And  if  he  have  to  live  so  loath'd  a  life, 
It  were  more  merciful  to  burn  him  now. 

Thirlby. 
O  yet  relent.     O,  Madam,  if  you  knew  him 
As  I  do,  ever  gentle,  and  so  gracious, 
With  all  his  learning  — 

Mary. 

Yet  a  heretic  still. 
His  learning  makes  his  burning  the  more  just. 

Thirlby. 
So  worshipt  of  all  those  that  came  across  him  ; 
The  stranger  at  his  hearth,  and  all  his  house  — 

Mary. 

His  children  and  his  concubine,  belike. 
13 


194  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Thirlby. 
To  do  him  any  wrong  was  to  beget 
\.  kindness  from  him,  for  his  heart  was  rich, 
Of  such  fine  mould,  that  if  you  sow'd  therein 
The  seed  of  Hate,  it  blossom'd  Charity. 

Pole. 
"  After  his  kind  it  costs  him  nothing,"  there's 
An  old  world  English  adage  to  the  point. 
These  are  but  natural  graces,  my  good  Bishop, 
Which  in  the  Catholic  garden  are  as  flowers, 
But  on  the  heretic  dunghill  only  weeds. 

Howard. 
Such  weeds  make  dunghills  gracious. 

Mary. 

Enough,  my  Lords. 
It  is  God's  will,  the  Holy  Father's  will, 
And  Philip's  will,  and  mine,  that  he  should  burn. 
He  is  pronounced  anathema. 

Howard. 

Farewell,  Madam, 
God  grant  you  ampler  mercy  at  your  call 
Than  you  have  shown  to  Cranmer.  [Exeunt  Lords. 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  195 

Pole. 

After  this, 
Your  Grace  will  hardly  care  to  overlook 
This  same  petition  of  the  foreign  exiles, 
For  Cranmer's  life.    . 

Mary. 
Make  out  the  writ  to-night. 

{Exeunt. 


SCENE  II.  —  OXFORD.   CRANMER  IN  PRISON. 

Cranmer. 

Last  night,  I  dream'd  the  fagots  were  alight, 
And  that  myself  was  fasten'd  to  the  stake, 
And  found  it  all  a  visionary  flame, 
Cool  as  the  light  in  old  decaying  wood  ; 
And  then  King  Harry  look'd  from  out  a  cloud, 
And  bade  me  have  good  courage  ;   and  I  heard 
An  angel  cry,  "  there  is  more  joy  in  Heaven,"  — 
And  after  that,  the  trumpet  of  the  dead. 

[Trumpets  without 
Why,  there  are  trumpets  blowing  now  :  what  is  it  ? 


196  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Enter  Father  Cole. 

Cole. 
Cranmer,  I  come  to  question  you  again  ; 
Have  you  remain'd  in  the  true  Catholic  Faith 
I  left  you  in  ? 

Cranmer. 

In  the  true  Catholic  faith, 
By  Heaven's  grace,  I  am  more  and  more  confirm'd. 
Why  are  the  trumpets  blowing,  Father  Cole  ? 

Cole. 

Cranmer,  it  is  decided  by  the  Council 

That  you  to-day  should  read  your  recantation 

Before  the  people  in  St.  Mary's  Church. 

And  there  be  many  heretics  in  the  town, 

Who  loathe  you  for  your  late  return  to  Rome, 

And  might  assail  you  passing  through  the  street, 

And  tear  you  piecemeal :  so  you  have  a  guard. 

Cranmer. 
Or  seek  to  rescue  me.     I  thank  the  Council. 

Cole. 
Do  you  lack  any  money  ? 


scene  il]  Queen  Mary.  197 

Cranmer. 

Nay,  why  should  I  ? 
The  prison  fare  is  good  enough  for  me. 

Cole. 
Ay,  but  to  give  the  poor. 

Cranmer. 

Hand  it  me,  then  ! 
I  thank  you. 

Cole. 
For  a  little  space,  farewell ; 
Until  I  see  you  in  St.  Mary's  Church.  {Exit  Cole. 

Cranmer. 

It  is  against  all  precedent  to  burn 

One  who  recants  ;  they  mean  to  pardon  me. 

To  give  the  poor  —  they  give  the  poor  who  die. 

Well,  burn  me  or  not  burn  me  I  am  fixt ; 

It  is  but  a  communion,  not  a  mass : 

A  holy  supper,  not  a  sacrifice ; 

No  man  can  make  his  Maker  —  Villa  Garcia. 

Enter  Villa  Garcia. 

Villa  Garcia. 
Pray  you  write  out  this  paper  for  me,  Cranmer. 


198  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Cranmer. 
Have  I  not  writ  enough  to  satisfy  you  ? 

Villa  Garcia. 
It  is  the  last. 

Cranmer. 
Give  it  me,  then.  \He  writes. 


Villa  Garcia. 


Now  sign. 


Cranmer. 
I  have  sign'd  enough,  and  I  will  sign  no  more. 

Villa  Garcia. 
It  is  no  more  than  what  you  have  sign'd  already, 
The  public  form  thereof. 

Cranmer. 

It  may  be  so  ; 
I  sign  it  with  my  presence,  if  I  read  it. 

Villa  Garcia. 

But  this  is  idle  of  you.     Well,  sir,  well, 
You  are  to  beg  the  people  to  pray  for  you  ; 


scene  II.]  Queen  Mary.  199 

Exhort  them  to  a  pure  and  virtuous  life  ; 
Declare  the  Queen's  right  to  the  throne  •  confess 
Your  faith  before  all  hearers  ;  and  retract 
That  Eucharistic  doctrine  in  your  book. 
Will  you  not  sign  it  now  ? 

Cranmer. 

No,  Villa  Garcia, 
I  sign  no  more.     Will  they  have  mercy  on  me  ? 

Villa  Garcia. 
Have  you  good  hopes  of  mercy  1     So,  farewell.    \Exit. 

Cranmer. 

Good  hopes,  not  theirs,  have  I  that  I  am  fixt, 
Fixt  beyond  fall ;  however,  in  strange  hours, 
After  the  long  brain-dazing  colloquies, 
And  thousand-times  recurring  argument 
Of  those  two  friars  ever  in  my  prison, 
When  left  alone  in  my  despondency,    . 
Without  a  friend,  a  book,  my  faith  would  seem 
Dead  or  half-drown'd,  or  else  swam  heavily 
Against  the  huge  corruptions  of  the  Church, 
Monsters  of  mistradition,  old  enough 
To  scare  me  into  dreaming,  "what  am  I. 


200  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Cranmer,  against  whole  ages  ? "  was  it  so, 
Or  am  I  slandering  my  most  inward  friend, 
To  veil  the  fault  of  my  most  outward  foe  — 
The  soft  and  tremulous  coward  in  the  flesh  ? 

0  higher,  holier,  earlier,  purer  church, 

1  have  found  thee  and  not  leave  thee  any  more. 
It  is  but  a  communion,  not  a  mass  — 

No  sacrifice,  but  a  life-giving  feast ! 
(Writes?)     So,  so  ;  this  will  I  say  —  thus  will  I  pray. 

[Puts  up  the  paper. 

Enter  Bonner. 

Bonner. 

Good-day,  old  friend  ;  what,  you  look  somewhat  worn  : 

And  yet  it  is  a  day  to  test  your  health 

Ev'n  at  the  best :  I  scarce  have  spoken  with  you 

Since  when  ?  —  your  degradation.     At  your  trial 

Never  stood  up  a  bolder  man  than  you  ; 

You  would  not  cap  the  Pope's  commissioner  — 

Your  learning,  and  your  stoutness,  and  your  heresy, 

Dumfounded  half  of  us.     So,  after  that, 

We  had  to  dis-archbishop  and  unlord, 

And  make  you  simple  Cranmer  once  again. 

The  common  barber  dipt  your  hair,  and  I 

Scraped  from  your  finger-points  the  holy  oil ; 


scene  II.]  Queen  Mary.  201 

And  worse  than  all,  you  had  to  kneel  to  me  : 
Which  was  not  pleasant  for  you,  Master  Cranmer. 
Now  you,  that  would  not  recognize  the  Pope, 
And  you,  that  would  not  own  the  Real  Presence, 
Have  found  a  real  presence  in  the  stake, 
Which  frights  you  back  into  the  ancient  faith ; 
And  so  you  have  recanted  to  the  Pope. 
How  are  the  mighty  fallen,  Master  Cranmer ! 

Cranmer. 

You  have  been  more  fierce  against  the  Pope  than  I ; 
But  why  fling  back  the  stone  he  strikes  me  with  ? 

[Aside, 

0  Bonner,  if  I  ever  did  you  kindness  — 
Power  hath  been  given  you  to  try  faith  by  fire  — 
Pray  you,  remembering  how  yourself  have  changed, 
Be  somewhat  pitiful,  after  I  have  gone, 

To  the  poor  flock  —  to  women  and  to  children  — 
That  when  I  was  archbishop  held  with  me. 

Bonner. 

Ay  —  gentle  as  they  call  you  —  live  or  die ! 
Pitiful  to  this  pitiful  heresy  ? 

1  must  obey  the  Queen  and  Council,  man. 
Win  thro'  this  day  with  honor  to  yourself, 

And  I'll  say  something  for  you  —  so  —  good-by.    [Exit. 


202  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Cranmer. 

This  hard  coarse  man  of  old  hath  crouch'd  to  me 
Till  I  myself  was  half  ashamed  for  him. 

Enter  Thirlby. 
Weep  not,  good  Thirlby. 

Thirlby. 

Oh,  my  Lord,  my  Lord  ! 
My  heart  is  no  such  block  as  Bonner's  is  : 
Who  would  not  weep  ? 

Cranmer. 
Why  do  you  so  my-lord  me, 
Who  am  disgraced  ? 

Thirlby. 

On  earth  ;  but  saved  in  heaven 
By  your  recanting. 

Cranmer. 
Will  they  burn  me,  Thirlby  ? 

Thirlby. 

Alas,  they  will ;  these  burnings  will  not  help 
The  purpose  of  the  faith  ;  but  my  poor  voice 


Scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  203 

Against  them  is  a  whisper  to  the  roar 
Of  a  spring-tide. 

Cranmer. 
And  they  will  surely  burn  me  ? 

Thirlby. 

Ay ;  and  besides,  will  have  you  in  the  church 
Repeat  your  recantation  in  the  ears 
Of  all  men,  to  the  saving  of  their  souls, 
Before  your  execution.     May  God  help  you 
Thro'  that  hard  hour. 

Cranmer. 

And  may  God  bless  you,  Thirlby. 
Well,  they  shall  hear  my  recantation  there. 

[Exit  Thirlby. 
Disgraced,  dishonor'd  !  —  not  by  them,  indeed, 
By  mine  own  self  —  by  mine  own  hand  ! 
O  thin-skinn'd  hand  and  jutting  veins,  'twas  you 
That  sign'd  the  burning  of  poor  Joan  of  Kent ; 
But  then  she  was  a  witch.     You  have  written  much, 
But  you  were  never  raised  to  plead  for  Frith, 
Whose  dogmas  I  have  reach'd :  he  was  deliver'd 
To  the  secular  arm  to  burn  ;  and  there  was  Lambert ; 
Who  can  foresee  himself  ?  truly  these  burnings, 


204  Queen  Alary.  [act  iv. 

As  Thirl  by  says,  are  profitless  to  the  burners, 

And  help  the  other  side.     You  shall  burn  too, 

Burn  first  when  I  am  burnt. 

Fire  —  inch  by  inch  to  die  in  agony  !     Latimer 

Had  a  brief  end  —  not  Ridley.     Hooper  burn'd 

Three-quarters  of  an  hour.     Will  my  fagots 

Be  wet  as  his  were  ?     It  is  a  day  of  rain. 

I  will  not  muse  upon  it. 

My  fancy  takes  the  burner's  part,  and  makes 

The  fire  seem  even  crueller  than  it  is. 

No,  I  not  doubt  that  God  will  give  me  strength, 

Albeit  I  have  denied  him. 

'Enter  Soto  and  Villa  Garcia. 

Villa  Garcia. 

We  are  ready 
To  take  you  to  St.  Mary's,  Master  Cranmer. 

Cranmer. 

And  I :  lead  on  ;  ye  loose  me  from  my  bonds. 

[Exeunt 


scene  in.]         Queen  Mary.  205 


SCENE  III.— ST.   MARY'S   CHURCH. 

Cole  in  the  Pulpit,  Lord  Williams  of  Thame  presid- 
ing. Lord  William  Howard,  Lord  Paget,  and 
others.  Cranmer  enters  between  Soto  and  Villa 
Garcia,  and  the  whole  Choir  strike  up  "  Nunc 
Dimittis."  Cranmer  is  set  upon  a  Scaffold  before 
the  people. 

Cole. 
Behold  him  —  \A  pause;  people  in  the  foreground. 

People. 
Oh,  unhappy  sight ! 

First  Protestant. 
See  how  the  tears  run  down  his  fatherly  face. 

Second  Protestant. 

James,  didst  thou  ever  see  a  carrion  crow 
Stand  watching  a  sick  beast  before  he  dies  ? 

First  Protestant. 

Him  perch'd  up  there  ?     I  wish  some  thunderbolt 
Would  make  this  Cole  a  cinder,  pulpit  and  all. 


206  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv 

Cole. 
Behold  him,  brethren  :  he  hath  cause  to  weep  !  — 
So  have  we  all :  weep  with  him  if  ye  will, 
Yet  — 

It  is  expedient  for  one  man  to  die, 
Yea,  for  the  people,  lest  the  people  die. 
Yet  wherefore  should  he  die  that  hath  return'd 
To  the  one  Catholic  Universal  Church, 
Repentant  of  his  errors  ? 

Protestant  murmurs. 

Ay,  tell  us  that. 

Cole. 
Those  of  the  wrong  side  will  despise  the  man, 
Deeming  him  one  that  thro'  the  fear  of  death 
Gave  up  his  cause,  except  he  seal  his  faith 
In  sight  of  all  with  flaming  martyrdom. 

Cranmer. 

Ay. 

Cole. 
Ye  hear  him,  and  albeit  there  may  seem 
According  to  the  canons  pardon  due 
To  him  that  so  repents,  yet  are  there  causes 
Wherefore  our  Queen  and  Council  at  this  time 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  207 

Adjudge  him  to  the  death.     He  hath  been  a  traitor, 

A  shaker  and  confounder  of  the  realm  ; 

And  when  the  King's  divorce  was  sued  at  Rome, 

He  here,  this  heretic  metropolitan, 

As  if  he  had  been  the  Holy  Father,  sat 

And  judged  it.     Did  I  call  him  heretic  ? 

A  huge  heresiarch !  never  was  it  known 

That  any  man  so  writing,  preaching  so, 

So  poisoning  the  Church,  so  long  continuing, 

Hath  found  his  pardon ;  therefore  he  must  die, 

For  warning  and  example. 

Other  reasons 
There  be  for  this  man's  ending,  which  our  Queen 
And  Council  at  this  present  deem  it  not 
Expedient  to  be  known. 

Protestant  murmurs. 
I  warrant  you. 

Cole. 

Take  therefore,  all,  example  by  this  man, 
For  if  our  Holy  Queen  not  pardon  him, 
Much  less  shall  others  in  like  cause  escape, 
That  all  of  you,  the  highest  as  the  lowest, 
May  learn  there  is  no  power  against  the  Lord. 
There  stands  a  man,  once  of  so  high  degree, 


208  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Chief  prelate  of  our  Church,  archbishop,  first 
In  Council,  second  person  in  the  realm, 
Friend  for  so  long  time  of  a  mighty  King ; 
And  now  ye  see  downfallen  and  debased 
From  councillor  to  caitiff  —  fallen  so  low, 
The  leprous  flutterings  of  the  byway,  scum 
And  offal  of  the  city  would  not  change 
Estates  with  him  ;  in  brief,  so  miserable, 
There  is  no  hope  of  better  left  for  him, 
No  place  for  worse. 

Yet,  Cranmer,  be  thou  glad. 
This  is  the  work  of  God.     He  is  glorified 
In  thy  conversion  :  lo  !  thou  art  reclaim'd  ; 
He  brings  thee  home  :  nor  fear  but  that  to-day 
Thou  shalt  receive  the  penitent  thief's  award, 
And  be  with  Christ  the  Lord  in  Paradise. 
Remember  how  God  made  the  fierce  fire  seem 
To  those  three  children  like  a  pleasant  dew. 
Remember,  too, 

The  triumph  of  St.  Andrew  on  his  cross, 
The  patience  of  St.  Lawrence  in  the  fire. 
Thus,  if  thou  call  on  God  and  all  the  saints, 
God  will  beat  down  the  fury  of  the  flame, 
Or  give  thee  saintly  strength  to  undergo. 
And  for  thy  soul  shall  masses  here  be  sung 
By  every  priest  in  Oxford.     Pray  for  him. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  209 

Cranmer. 
Ay,  one  and  all,  dear  brothers,  pray  for  me ; 
Pray  with  one  breath,  one  heart,  one  soul,  for  me. 

Cole. 
And  now,  lest  any  one  among  you  doubt 
The  man's  conversion  and  remorse  of  heart, 
Yourselves    shall    hear    him    speak.     Speak,    Mastei 

Cranmer, 
Fulfil  your  promise  made  me,  and  proclaim 
Your  true  undoubted  faith,  that  all  may  hear. 

Cranmer. 
And  that  I  will.     O  God,  Father  of  Heaven ! 
O  Son  of  God,  Redeemer  of  the  world  ! 

0  Holy  Ghost !  proceeding  from  them  both, 
Three  persons  and  one  God,  have  mercy  on  me, 
Most  miserable  sinner,  wretched  man. 

1  have  offended  against  heaven  and  earth 
More  grievously  than  any  tongue  can  tell. 
Then  whither  should  I  flee  for  any  help  ? 
I  am  ashamed  to  lift  my  eyes  to  heaven, 
And  I  can  find  no  refuge  upon  earth. 

Shall  I  despair  then  ?  —  God  forbid  !     O  God, 
For  tiiou  art  merciful,  refusing  none 
That  come  to  Thee  for  succor,  unto  Thee, 
Therefore,  I  come  ;  humble  myself  to  Thee  ; 


210  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Saying,  O  Lord  God,  although  my  sins  be  great, 

For  thy  great  mercy  have  mercy !     O  God  the  Son, 

Not  for  slight  faults  alone,  when  thou  becamest 

Man  in  the  Flesh,  was  the  great  mystery  wrought ; 

O  God  the  Father,  not  for  little  sins 

Didst  thou  yield  up  thy  Son  to  human  death ; 

But  for  the  greatest  sin  that  can  be  sinn'd, 

Yea,  even  such  as  mine,  incalculable, 

Unpardonable,  —  sin  against  the  light, 

The  truth  of  God,  which  I  had  proven  and  known. 

Thy  mercy  must  be  greater  than  all  sin. 

Fordve  me,  Father,  for  no  merit  of  mine, 

But  that  Thy  name  by  man  be  glorified, 

And  Thy  most  blessed  Son's,  who  died  for  man. 

Good  people,  every  man  at  time  of  death 
Would  fain  set  forth  some  saying  that  may  live 
After  his  death  and  better  humankind  ; 
For  death  gives  life's  last  word  a  power  to  live, 
And,  like  the  stone-cut  epitaph,  remain 
After  the  vanish'd  voice,  and  speak  to  men. 
God  grant  me  grace  to  glorify  my  God ! 
And  first  I  say  it  is  a  grievous  case, 
Many  so  dote  upon  this  bubble  world, 
Whose  colors  in  a  moment  break  and  fly, 
They  care  for  nothing  else.     What  saith  St.  John  :  — 
"  Love  of  this  world  is  hatred  against  God." 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  2 1 1 

Again,  I  pray  you  all  that,  next  to  God, 

You  do  unmurmuringly  and  willingly 

Obey  your  King  and  Queen,  and  not  for  dread 

Of  these  alone,  but  from  the  fear  of  Him 

Whose  ministers  they  be  to  govern  you. 

Thirdly,  I  pray  you  all  to  love  together 

Like  brethren ;  yet  what  hatred  Christian  men 

Bear  to  each  other,  seeming  not  as  brethren, 

But  mortal  foes  !     But  do  you  good  to  all 

As  much  as  in  you  lieth.     Hurt  no  man  more 

Than  you  would  harm  your  loving  natural  brother 

Of  the  same  roof,  same  breast.     If  any  do, 

Albeit  he  think  himself  at  home  with  God, 

Of  this  be  sure,  he  is  whole  worlds  away. 

Protestant  murmurs. 

What  sort  of  brothers  then  be  those  that  lust 
To  burn  each  other  ? 

Williams. 
Peace  among  you,  there. 

Cranmer. 
Fourthly,  to  those  that  own  exceeding  wealth, 
Remember  that  sore  saying  spoken  once 
By  Him  that  was  the  truth,  "  how  hard  it  is 


212  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv 

For  the  rich  man  to  enter  into  Heaven  ; " 
Let  all  rich  men  remember  that  hard  word. 
I  have  not  time  for  more  :  if  ever,  now 
Let  them  flow  forth  in  charity,  seeing  now 
The  poor  so  many,  and  all  food  so  dear. 
Long  have  I  lain  in  prison,  yet  have  heard 
Of  all  their  wretchedness.     Give  to  the  poor, 
Ye  give  to  God.     He  is  with  us  in  the  poor. 
And  now,  and  forasmuch  as  I  have  come 
To  the  last  end  of  life,  and  thereupon 
Hangs  all  my  past,  and  all  my  life  to  be, 
Either  to  live  with  Christ  in  Heaven  with  joy, 
Or  to  be  still  in  pain  with  devils  in  hell ; 
And,  seeing  in  a  moment,  I  shall  find  \Pointing  upwards . 
Heaven  or  else  hell  ready  to  swallow  me, 

\Pointing  downwards 
I  shall  declare  to  you  my  very  faith 
Without  all  color. 

Cole. 
Hear  him,  my  good  brethren. 

Cranmer. 

I  do  believe  in  God,  Father  of  all ; 
In  every  article  of  the  Catholic  faith, 
And  every  syllable  taught  us  by  our  Lord, 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  2 1 3 

His  prophets,  and  apostles,  in  the  Testaments, 
Both  Old  and  New. 

Cole. 
Be  plainer,  Master  Cranmer. 

Cranmer. 

And  now  I  come  to  the  great  cause  that  weighs 
Upon  my  conscience  more  than  any  thing 
Or  said  or  done  in  all  my  life  by  me ; 
For  there  be  writings  I  have  set  abroad 
Against  the  truth  I  knew  within  my  heart, 
Written  for  fear  of  death,  to  save  my  life, 
If  that  might  be ;  the  papers  by  my  hand 
Sign'd  since  my  degradation  —  by  this  hand 

[Holding  out  his  right  hand, 
Written  and  sign'd  —  I  here  renounce  them  all ; 
And,  since  my  hand  offended,  having  written 
Against  my  heart,  my  hand  shall  first  be  burnt, 
So  I  may  come  to  the  fire.  [Dead  silence. 

Protestant  murmurs. 
First  Protestant. 
I  knew  it  would  be  so. 

Second  Protestant. 

Our  prayers  are  heard ! 


2 1 4  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Third  Protestant. 
God  bless  him ! 

Catholic  murmurs. 
Out  upon  him  !  out  upon  him  ! 
Liar !  dissembler  !  traitor  !  to  the  fire  ! 

Williams  {raising  his  voice). 

You  know  that  you  recanted  all  you  said 
Touching  the  sacrament  in  that  same  book 
You  wrote  against  my  Lord  of  Winchester ; 
Dissemble  not  j  play  the  plain  Christian  man. 

Cranmer. 

Alas,  my  Lord, 

I  have  been  a  man  loved  plainness  all  my  life  ; 

I  did  dissemble,  but  the  hour  has  come 

For  utter  truth  and  plainness  ;  wherefore,  I  say, 

I  hold  by  all  I  wrote  within  that  book. 

Moreover, 

As  for  the  Pope  I  count  him  Antichrist, 

With  all  his  devil's  doctrines  ;  and  refuse, 

Reject  him,  and  abhor  him.     I  have  said. 

[Cries  on  all  sides,  "  Pull  him  down  !     Away 
with  him." 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  215 

Cole. 
Ay,  stop  the  heretic's  mouth.     Hale  him  away. 

Williams. 
Harm  him  not,  harm  him  not,  have  him  to  the  fire. 

[Cranmer  goes  out  between  Two  Friars,  smiling ; 
hands  are  reached  to  him  from  the  crowd. 
Lord  William  Howard  and  Lord  Paget 
are  left  alo?ie  in  the  church. 

Paget. 
The  nave  and  aisles  all  empty  as  a  fool's  jest ! 
No,  here's  Lord  William  Howard.     What,  my  Lord, 
You  have  not  gone  to  see  the  burning  ? 

Howard. 

Fie! 
To  stand  at  ease,  and  stare  as  at  a  show, 
And  watch  a  good  man  burn.     Never  again. 
I  saw  the  deaths  of  Latimer  and  Ridley. 
Moreover  tho'  a  Catholic,  I  would  not, 
For  the  pure  honor  of  our  common  nature, 
Hear  what  I  might  —  another  recantation 
Of  Cranmer  at  the  stake. 

Paget. 

You'd  not  hear  that. 


216  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

He  pass'd  out  smiling,  and  he  walk'd  upright ; 
His  eye  was  like  a  soldier's,  whom  the  general 
He  looks  to  and  he  leans  on  as  his  God, 
Hath  rated  for  some  backwardness  and  bidd'n  him 
Charge  one  against  a  thousand,  and  the  man 
Hurls  his  soil'd  life  against  the  pikes  and  dies. 

Howard. 

Yet  that  he  might  not  after  all  those  papers 
Of  recantation  yield  again,  who  knows  ? 

Paget. 

Papers  of  recantation,  think  you  then 
That  Cranmer  read  all  papers  that  he  sign'd  ? 
Or  sign'd  all  those  they  tell  us  that  he  sign'd  ? 
Nay,  I  trow  not :  and  you  shall  see,  my  Lord, 
That  howsoever  hero-like  the  man 
Dies  in  the  fire,  this  Bonner  or  another 
Will  in  some  lying  fashion  misreport 
His  ending  to  the  glory  of  their  church. 
And  you  saw  Latimer  and  Ridley  die  ? 
Latimer  was  eighty,  was  he  not  ?  his  best 
Of  life  was  over  then. 

Howard. 

His  eighty  years 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  217 

Look'd  somewhat  crooked  on  him  in  his  frieze ; 
But  after  they  had  stript  him  to  his  shroud, 
He  stood  upright,  a  lad  of  twenty-one, 
And  gather'd  with  his  hands  the  starting  flame, 
And  wash'd  his  hands  and  all  his  face  therein, 
Until  the  powder  suddenly  blew  him  dead. 
Ridley  was  longer  burning ;  but  he  died 
As  manfully  and  boldly,  and  'fore  God, 
I  know  them  heretics,  but  right  English  ones. 
If  ever,  as  heaven  grant,  we  clash  with  Spain, 
Our  Ridley-soldiers  and  our  Latimer-sailors 
Will  teach  her  something. 

Paget. 

Your  mild  Legate  Pole 
Will  tell  you  that  the  devil  helpt  them  thro'  it. 

\A  murmur  of  the  Crowd  in  the  distance. 
Hark,  how  those  Roman  wolfdogs  howl  and  bay  him. 

Howard. 

Might  it  not  be  the  other  side  rejoicing 
In  his  brave  end  ? 

Paget. 

They  are  too  crush'd,  too  broken, 
They  can  but  weep  in  silence. 


218  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv 

Howard. 

Ay,  ay,  Paget, 
They  have  brought  it  in  large  measure  on  themselves. 
Have  I  not  heard  them  mock  the  blessed  Host 
In  songs  so  lewd,  the  beast  might  roar  his  claim 
To  being  in  God's  image,  more  than  they? 
Have  I  not  seen  the  gamekeeper,  the  groom, 
Gardener,  and  huntsman,  in  the  parson's  place, 
The  parson  from  his  own  spire  swung  out  dead, 
And  Ignorance  crying  in  the  streets,  and  all  men 
Regarding  her  ?     I  say  they  have  drawn  the  fire 
On  their  own  heads  :  yet,  Paget,  I  do  hold 
The  Catholic,  if  he  have  the  greater  right, 
Hath  been  the  crueller. 

Paget. 
Action  and  re-action, 
The  miserable  see-saw  of  our  child-world, 
Make  us  despise  it  at  odd  hours,  my  Lord. 
Heaven  help  that  this  re-action  not  re-act, 
Yet  fiercelier  under  Queen  Elizabeth, 
So  that  she  come  to  rule  us. 

Howard. 

The  world's  mad. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  219 

Paget. 
My  Lord,  the  world  is  like  a  drunken  man, 
Who  cannot  move  straight  to  his  end  —  but  reels 
Now  to  the  right,  then  as  far  to  the  left, 
Push'd  by  the  crowd  beside  —  and  underfoot 
An  earthquake  ;  for  since  Henry  for  a  doubt  — 
Which  a  young  lust  had  clapt  upon  the  back, 
Crying,  "  Forward,"  —  set  our  old  church  rocking,  men 
Have  hardly  known  what  to  believe,  or  whether 
They  should  believe  in  any  thing  ;  the  currents 
So  shift  and  change,  they  see  not  how  they  are  borne, 
Nor  whither.     I  conclude  the  King  a  beast ; 
Verily  a  lion  if  you  will  —  the  world 
A  most  obedient  beast  and  fool  —  myself 
Half  beast  and  fool  as  appertaining  to  it ; 
Altho'  your  Lordship  hath  as  little  of  each 
Cleaving  to  your  original  Adam-clay, 
As  may  be  consonant  with  mortality. 

Howard. 

We  talk  and  Cranmer  suffers. 

The  kindliest  man  I  ever  knew  ;  see,  see, 

I  speak  of  him  in  the  past.     Unhappy  land  ! 

Hard-natured  Queen,  half  Spanish  in  herself, 

And  grafted  on  the  hard-grain'd  stock  of  Spain  — 

Her  life,  since  Philip  left  her,  and  she  lost 


220  Queen  Mary.  [act  tv. 

Her  fierce  desire  of  bearing  him  a  child, 
Hath,  like  a  brief  and  bitter  winter's  day, 
Gone  narrowing  down  and  darkening  to  a  close. 
There  will  be  more  conspiracies,  I  fear. 

Paget. 
Ay,  ay,  beware  of  France. 

Howard. 

O  Paget,  Paget ! 
I  have  seen  heretics  of  the  poorer  sort, 
Expectant  of  the  rack  from  day  to  day, 
To  whom  the  fire  were  welcome,  lying  chain'd 
In  breathless  dungeons  over  steaming  sewers, 
Fed  with  rank  bread  that  crawl'd  upon  the  tongue, 
And  putrid  water,  every  drop  a  worm, 
Until  they  died  of  rotted  limbs  ;  and  then 
Cast  on  the  dunghill  naked,  and  become 
Hideously  alive  again  from  head  to  heel, 
Made  even  the  carrion-nosing  mongrel  vomit 
With  hate  and  horror. 


Paget. 

Nay,  you  sicken  me 


To  hear  you. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  221 

Howard. 
Fancy-sick  ;  these  things  are  done, 
Done  right  against  the  promise  of  this  Queen 
Twice  given. 

Paget. 
No  faith  with  heretics,  my  Lord  ! 
Hist !  there  be  two  old  gossips  —  gospellers, 
I  take  it ;  stand  behind  the  pillar  here  ; 
I  warrant  you  they  talk  about  the  burning. 

Enter  Two  Old  Women.     Joan,  and  after  her  Tib. 

Joan. 
Why,  it  be  Tib. 

Tib. 
I  cum  behind  tha,  gall,  and  couldn't  make  tha  hear. 
Eh,  the  wind  and  the  wet !  What  a  day,  what  a  day  ! 
nigh  upo'  judgment  daay  loike.  Pwoaps  be  pretty 
things,  Joan,  but  they  wunt  set  i'  the  Lords'  cheer  o' 
that  daay. 

Joan. 
I  must  set  down  myself,  Tib ;  it  be  a  var  waay  vor 
my  owld  legs   up  vro'  Islip.      Eh,  my  rheumatizy  be 
that  bad  howiver  be  I  to  win  to  the  burnin'. 


222  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Tib. 

I  should  saay  'twur  ower  by  now.  I'd  ha'  been  here 
avore,  but  Dumble  wur  blow'd  wi'  the  wind,  and  Dum- 
ble's  the  best  milcher  in  Islip. 

Joan. 
Our  Daisy's  as  good  'z  her. 

Tib. 
Noa,  Joan. 

Joan. 
Our  Daisy's  butter's  as  good  'z  hern. 

Tib. 
Noa,  Joan. 

Joan. 
Our  Daisy's  cheeses  be  better. 

Tib. 
Noa,  Joan. 

Joan. 

Eh,  then  ha'  thy  waay  wi'  me,  Tib ;  ez  thou  hast  wi' 
thy  owld  man. 


scene  in.]  Qtiecn  Mary.  223 

Tib. 

Ay,  Joan,  and  my  owld  man  wur  up  and  awaay  be 
times  wi'  dree  hard  eggs  for  a  good  pleace  at  the  bum- 
in'  •  and  barrin'  the  wet,  Hodge  'ud  ha'  been  a-harrowin' 
o'  white  peasen  i'  the  outfield —  and  barrin'  the  wind, 
Dumble  wur  blow'd  wi'  the  wind,  so  'z  we  was  forced  to 
stick  her,  but  we  fetched  her  round  at  last.  Thank  the 
Lord  therevore.     Dumble's  the  best  milcher  in  Islip. 

Joan. 

Thou's  thy  way  wi'  man  and  beast,  Tib.  I  wonder 
at  tha',  it  beats  me !  Eh,  but  I  do  know  ez  Pwoaps 
and  vires  be  bad  things ;  tell  'ee  now,  I  heerd  summat 
as  summun  towld  summun  o'  owld  Bishop  Gardiner's 
end  ;  there  wur  an  owld  lord  a-cum  to  dine  wi'  un,  and 
a  wur  so  owld  a  couldn't  bide  vor  his  dinner,  but  a 
had  to  bide  howsomiver,  vor  "  I  wunt  dine,"  says  my 
Lord  Bishop,  says  he,  "  not  till  I  hears  ez  Latimer  and 
Ridley  be  a-vire ; "  and  so  they  bided  on  and  on  till 
vour  o'  the  clock,  till  his  man  cum  in  post  vro'  here, 
and  tells  un  ez  the  vire  has  tuk  holt,  "  Now,"  says  the 
bishop,  says  he,  "we'll  gwo  to  dinner;"  and  the  owld 
lord  fell  to  's  meat  wi'  a  will,  God  bless  un ;  but 
Gardiner  wur  struck  down  like  by  the  hand  o'  God 
avore  a  could  taste  a  mossel,  and  a  set  him  all  a-vire, 


224  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

so  'z  the  tongue  on  un  cum  a-lolluping  out  o'  'is  mouth 
as  black  as  a  rat.     Thank  the  Lord,  therevore. 

Paget. 
The  fools ! 

Tib. 

Ay,  Joan ;  and  Queen  Mary  gwoes  on  a-burnin'  and 
a-burnin',  to  git  her  baaby  born  ;  but  all  her  burnins' 
'ill  never  burn  out  the  hypocrisy  that  makes  the  water 
in  her.  There's  nought  but  the  vire  of  God's  hell  ez 
can  burn  out  that. 

Joan. 
Thank  the  Lord,  therevore. 

Paget. 
The  fools ! 

Tib. 
A-burnin',  and  a-burnin',  and  a-makin'  o'  volk  madder 
and  madder ;  but  tek  thou  my  word  vor't,  Joan,  —  and 
I  bean't  wrong  not  twice  i'  ten  year  —  the  burnin'  or 
the  owld  archbishop  'ill  burn  the  Pwoap  out  o'  this  'ere 
land  vor  iver  and  iver. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  225 

Howard. 
Out  of  the  church,  you  brace  of  cursed  crones, 
Or  I  will  have  you  duck'd.     (  Women  hurry  out.)     Said 

I  not  right  ? 
For  how  should  reverend  prelate  or  throned  prince 
Brook  for  an  hour  such  brute  malignity  ? 
Ah.,  what  an  acrid  wine  has  Luther  brew'd  ! 

Paget. 

Pooh,  pooh,  my  Lord  !  poor  garrulous  country-wives. 
Buy  you  their  cheeses,  and  they'll  side  with  you  ; 
You  cannot  judge  the  liquor  from  the  lees. 

Howard. 
I  think  that  in  some  sort  we  may.     But  see, 

Enter  Peters. 

Peters,  my  gentleman,  an  honest  Catholic, 
Who  follow'd  with  the  crowd  to  Cranmer's  fire. 
One  that  would  neither  misreport  nor  lie, 
Not  to  gain  paradise  :  no,  nor  if  the  Pope 
Charged  him  to  do  it  —  he  is  white  as  death. 
Peters,  how  pale  you  look  !  you  bring  the  smoke 
Of  Cranmer's  burning  with  you. 
x5 


226  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Peters. 

Twice  or  thrice 
The  smoke  of  Cranmer's  burning  wrapt  me  round. 

Howard. 

Peters,  you  know  me  Catholic,  but  English. 
Did  he  die  bravely  ?     Tell  me  that,  or  leave 
All  else  untold. 

Peters. 
My  Lord,  he  died  most  bravely. 

Howard. 
Then  tell  me  all. 

Paget. 
Ay,  Master  Peters,  tell  us. 

Peters. 

You  saw  him  how  he  past  among  the  crowd ; 
And- ever  as  he  walk'd  the  Spanish  friars 
Still  plied  him  with  entreaty  and  reproach : 
But  Cranmer,  as  the  helmsman  at  the  helm 
Steers,  ever  looking  to  the  happy  haven 
Where  he  shall  rest  at  night,  moved  to  his  death  ; 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  227 

And  I  could  see  that  many  silent  hands 

Came  from  the  crowd  and  met  his  own  ;  and  thus, 

When  we  had  come  where  Ridley  burnt  with  Latimer, 

He,  with  a  cheerful  smile,  as  one  whose  mind 

Is  all  made  up,  in  haste  put  off  the  rags 

They  had  mock'd  his  misery  with,  and  all  in  white. 

His  long  white  beard,  which  he  had  never  shaven 

Since  Henry's  death,  down-sweeping  to  the  chain, 

Wherewith  they  bound  him  to  the  stake,  he  stood, 

More  like  an  ancient  father  of  the  Church, 

Than  heretic  of  these  times  ;  and  still  the  friars 

Plied  him,  but  Cranmer  only  shook  his  head, 

Or  answer'd  them  in  smiling  negatives ; 

Whereat  Lord  Williams  gave  a  sudden  cry :  — 

"  Make  short !  make  short !  "  and  so  they  lit  the  wood, 

Then  Cranmer  lifted  his  left  hand  to  heaven, 

And  thrust  his  right  into  the  bitter  flame  ; 

And  crying,  in  his  deep  voice,  more  than  once, 

"  This  hath  offended  —  this  unworthy  hand !  " 

So  held  it  till  it  all  was  burn'd,  before 

The  flame  had  reach'd  his  body  ;  I  stood  near  — 

Mark'd  him  —  he  never  uttered  moan  of  pain  : 

He  never  stirr'd  or  writhed,  but,  like  a  statue, 

Unmoving  in  the  greatness  of  the  flame, 

Gave  up  the  ghost ;  and  so  past  martyr-like  — 

Martyr  I  may  not  call  him  —  past  —  but  whither? 


228  Queen  Mary.  [act  iv. 

Paget. 
To  purgatory,  man,  to  purgatory. 

Peters. 
Nay,  but,  my  Lord,  he  denied  purgatory. 

Paget. 
Why  then  to  heaven,  and  God  ha'  mercy  on  him. 

Howard. 

Paget,  despite  his  fearful  heresies, 

I  loved  the  man,  and  needs  must  moan  for  him ; 

O  Cranmer ! 

Paget. 

But  your  moan  is  useless  now : 
Come  out,  my  Lord,  it  is  a  world  of  fools.         [Exeunt 


Queen  Mary.  229 


ACT    V. 

SCENE  I.  —  LONDON.    HALL  IN  THE  P ALACK 

Queen,  Sir  Nicholas  Heath. 

Heath. 
Madam, 

I  do  assure  you,  that  it  must  be  look'd  to  : 
Calais  is  but  ill-garrison'd,  in  Guisnes 
Are  scarce  two  hundred  men,  and  the  French  fleet 
Rule  in  the  narrow  seas.     It  must  be  look'd  to, 
If  war  should  fall  between  yourself  and  France  ; 
Or  you  will  lose  your  Calais. 

Mary. 

It  shall  be  look'd  to; 
I  wish  you  a  good-morning,  good  Sir  Nicholas  : 
Here  is  the  King.  {Exit  Heath. 

Enter  Philip. 

Philip. 

Sir  Nicholas  tells  you  true, 
And  you  must  look  to  Calais  when  I  go. 


230  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Mary. 

Go  !  must  you  go,  indeed  —  again  — so  soon  ? 
Why,  nature's  licensed  vagabond,  the  swallow, 

1 

That  might  live  always  in  the  sun's  warm  heart, 
Stays  longer  here  in  our  poor  north  than  you :  — 
Knows  where  he  nested  —  ever  comes  again. 

Philip. 
And,  Madam,  so  shall  I. 

Mary. 

O,  will  you?  will  you? 
I  am  faint  with  fear  that  you  will  come  no  more. 

Philip. 
Ay,  ay ;  but  many  voices  call  me  hence. 

Mary. 

Voices  —  I  hear  unhappy  rumors  —  nay, 
I  say  not,  I  believe.     What  voices  call  you 
Dearer  than  mine  that  should  be  dearest  to  you  ? 
Alas,  my  Lord  !  what  voices  and  how  many  ? 

Philip. 

The  voices  of  Castile  and  Aragon, 
Granada,  Naples,  Sicily,  and  Milan, — 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  231 

The  voices  of  Franche-Comte,  and  the  Netherlands/ 
The  voices  of  Peru  and  Mexico, 
Tunis,  and  Oran,  and  the  Philippines, 
And  all  the  fair  spice-islands  of  the  East. 

Mary  (admiringly). 

You  are  the  mightiest  monarch  upon  earth, 

I  but  a  little  Queen  ;  and  so,  indeed, 

Need  you  the  more  ;  and  wherefore  could  you  not 

Helm  the  huge  vessel  of  your  state,  my  liege, 

Here,  by  the  side  of  her  who  loves  you  most  ? 

Philip. 
No,  Madam,  no  !  a  candle  in  the  sun 
Is  all  but  smoke  —  a  star  beside  the  moon 
Is  all  but  lost ;  your  people  will  not  crown  me  — 
Your  people  are  as  cheerless  as  your  clime  ; 
Hate  me  and  mine  :  witness  the  brawls,  the  gibbets. 
Here  swings  a  Spaniard  —  there  an  Englishman ; 
The  peoples  are  unlike  as  their  complexion ; 
Yet  will  I  be  your  swallow  and  return  — 
But  now  I  cannot  bide. 

Mary. 

Not  to  help  me? 
They  hate  me  also  for  my  love  to  you, 


232  Qiieen  Mary.  [act  v. 

My  Philip  ;  and  these  judgments  on  the  land  — 
Harvestless  autumns,  horrible  agues,  plague  — 


Philip. 
The  blood  and  sweat  of  heretics  at  the  stake 
Is  God's  best  dew  upon  the  barren  field. 
Burn  more  ! 

Mary. 
I  will,  I  will ;  and  you  will  stay. 

Philip. 
Have  I  not  said  ?     Madam,  I  came  to  sue 
Your  Council  and  yourself  to  declare  war. 

Mary. 

Sir,  there  are  many  English  in  your  ranks 
To  help  your  battle. 

Philip. 

So  far,  good.     I  say 
I  came  to  sue  your  Council  and  yourself 
To  declare  war  against  the  King  of  France. 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  233 

Mary. 
Not  to  see  me  ? 

Philip. 
Ay,  Madam,  to  see  you. 
Unalterably  and  pesteringly  fond  !  [Aside 

But,  soon  or  late  you  must  have  war  with  France ; 
King  Henry  warms  your  traitors  at  his  hearth. 
Carew  is  there,  and  Thomas  Stafford  there. 
Courtenay,  belike  — 

Mary. 
A  fool  and  featherhead  ! 

Philip. 

Ay,  but  they  use  his  name.     In  brief,  this  Henry 

Stirs  up  your  land  against  you  to  the  intent 

That  you  may  lose  your  English  heritage. 

And  then,  your  Scottish  namesake  marrying 

The  Dauphin,  he  would  weld  France,  England,  Scotland, 

Into  one  sword  to  hack  at  Spain  and  me. 

Mary. 

And  yet  the  Pope  is  now  colleagued  with  France  ; 
You  make  your  wars  upon  him  down  in  Italy  :  — 
Philip,  can  that  be  well  ? 


234  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Philip. 

Content  you,  Madam ; 
You  must  abide  my  judgment,  and  my  father's, 
Who  deems  it  a  most  just  and  holy  war. 
The  Pope  would  cast  the  Spaniard  out  of  Naples  : 
He  calls  us  worse  than  Jews,  Moors,  Saracens. 
The  Pope  has  push'd  his  horns  beyond  his  mitre  — 
Beyond  his  province.     Now, 
Duke  Alva  will  but  touch  him  on  the  horns, 
And  he  withdraws ;  and  of  his  holy  head  — 
For  Alva  is  true  son  of  the  true  church  — 
No  hair  is  harm'd.     Will  you  not"  help  me  here  ? 

Mary. 

Alas  !  the  Council  will  not  hear  of  war. 

They  say  your  wars  are  not  the  wars  of  England. 

They  will  not  lay  more  taxes  on  a  land 

So  hunger-nipt  and  wretched ;  and  you  know 

The  crown  is  poor.     We  have  given  the  church-lands 

back : 
The  nobles  would  not ;  nay,  they  clapt  their  hands 
Upon  their  swords  when  ask'd  ;  and  therefore  God 
Is  hard  upon  the  people.     What's  to  be  done  ? 
Sir,  I  will  move  them  in  your  cause  again, 
And  we  will  raise  us  loans  and  subsidies 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  235 

Among  the  merchants  ;  and  Sir  Thomas  Gresham 
Will  aid  us.     There  is  Antwerp  and  the  Jews. 

Philip. 
Madam,  my  thanks. 

Mary. 
And  you  will  stay  your  going? 

Philip. 

And  further  to  discourage  and  lay  lame 

The  plots  of  France,  altho'  you  love  her  not, 

You  must  proclaim  Elizabeth  your  heir. 

She  stands  between  you  and  the  Queen  of  Scots. 

Mary.  • 
The  Queen  of  Scots  at  least  is  Catholic. 

Philip. 

Ay,  Madam,  Catholic  ;  but  I  will  not  have 
The  King  of  France  the  King  of  England  too. 

Mary. 

But  she's  a  heretic,  and,  when  I  am  gone, 
Brings  the  new  learning  back. 


236  Queen  Mary.  [act  v 

Philip. 

It  must  be  done. 
You  must  proclaim  Elizabeth  your  heir. 

Mary. 
Then  it  is  done  ;  but  you  will  stay  your  going 
Somewhat  beyond  your  settled  purpose  ?, 

Philip. 

No! 

Mary. 
What,  not  one  day  ? 

Philip. 

You  beat  upon  the  rock. 

Mary. 
And  I  am  broken  there. 

Philip. 

Is  this  a  place 
To  wail  in,  Madam  ?  what !  a  public  hall. 
Go  in,  I  pray  you. 


* 


scene  I.]  Queen  Mary.  2?' 


0/ 


Mary. 


Do  not  seem  so  changed. 


Say  go  j  but  only  say  it  lovingly. 

Philip. 

You  do  mistake.     I  am  not  one  to  change. 
I  never  loved  you  more. 

Mary. 

Sire,  I  obey  you. 
Come  quickly. 

Philip. 
Ay.  [Exit  Mary. 

Enter  Count  de  Feria. 

Feria  {aside). 

The  Queen  in  tears. 

Philip. 

Feria ! 
Hast  thou  not  mark'd  —  come  closer  to  mine  ear  — 
How  doubly  aged  this  Queen  of  ours  hath  grown 
Since  she  lost  hope  of  bearing  us  a  child? 

Feria. 
Sire,  if  your  Grace  hath  mark'd  it,  so  have  I. 


238  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Philip. 

Hast  thou  not  likewise  mark'd  Elizabeth, 
How  fair  and  royal  —  like  a  Queen,  indeed  ? 

Feria. 
Allow  me  the  same  answer  as  before  — 
That  if  your  Grace  hath  mark'd  her,  so  have  I. 

Philip. 

Good,  now  ;  methinks  my  Queen  is  like  enough 
To  leave  me  by  and  by. 

Feria. 
To  leave  you,  sire  ? 

Philip. 

I  mean  not  like  to  live.     Elizabeth  — 
To  Philibert  of  Savoy,  as  you  know, 
We  meant  to  wed  her ;  but  I  am  not  sure 
She  will  not  serve  me  better  —  so  my  Queen 
Would  leave  me  —  as  —  my  wife. 

Feria. 

Sire,  even  so. 

Philip. 
She  will  not  have  Prince  Philibert  of  Savoy. 


scene  i.]  Queen  Mary.  239 

Feria. 
No,  sire. 

Philip. 
I  have  to  pray  you,  some  odd  time, 
To  sound  the  Princess  carelessly  on  this ; 
Not  as  from  me,  but  as  your  fantasy ; 
And  tell  me  how  she  takes  it. 

Feria 

Sire,  I  will. 

Philip. 
I  am  not  certain  but  that  Philibert 
Shall  be  the  man ;  and  I  shall  urge  his  suit 
Upon  the  Queen,  because  I  am  not  certain  : 
You  understand,  Feria. 

Feria. 
Sire,  I  do. 

Philip. 

And  if  you  be  not  secret  in  this  matter, 
You  understand  me  there,  too  ? 

Feria. 

Sire,  I  do. 


240  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Philip. 

You  must  be  sweet  and  supple,  like  a  Frenchman. 
She  is  none  of  those  who  loathe  the  honeycomb. 

[Exit  Feria. 

Enter  Renard. 

Renard. 
My  liege,  I  bring  you  goodly  tidings. 


Philip. 


Well. 


Renard. 

There  will  be  war  with  France,  at  last,  my  liege ; 
Sir  Thomas  Stafford,  a  bull-headed  ass, 
Sailing  from  France,  with  thirty  Englishmen, 
Hath  taken  Scarboro'  Castle,  north  of  York ; 
Proclaims  himself  protector,  and  affirms 
The  Queen  has  forfeited  her  right  to  reign 
By  marriage  with  an  alien  —  other  things 
As  idle  ;  a  weak  Wyatt !     Little  doubt 
This  buzz  will  soon  be  silenced  !  but  the  Council 
(I  have  talk'd  with  some  already)  are  for  war. 
This  is  the  fifth  conspiracy  hatch'd  in  France ; 
They  show  their  teeth  upon  it ;  and  your  Grace, 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  241 

So  you  will  take  advice  of  mine,  should  stay 
Yet  for  a  while,  to  shape  and  guide  the  event. 

Philip. 
Good !  Renard,  I  will  stay  then. 

Renard. 

Also,  sire, 
Might  I  not  say —  to  please  your  wife,  the  Queen  ? 

Philip. 
Ay,  Renard,  if  you  care  to  put  it  so. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  II.  — A  ROOM  IN  THE  PALACE. 

Mary  and  Cardinal  Pole. 
Lady  Clarence  and  Alice  in  the  background. 

Mary. 
Reginald  Pole,  what  news  hath  plagued  thy  heart? 
What  makes  thy  favor  like  the  bloodless  head 
Fall'n  on  the  block,  and  held  up  by  the  hair  ? 
Philip  ?  — 

16 


242  Qzieen  Mary.  [act  / 

Pole. 
No,  Philip  is  as  warm  in  life 
As  ever. 

Mary. 

Ay,  and  then  as  cold  as  ever. 
Is  Calais  taken  ? 

Pole. 
Cousin,  there  hath  chanced 
A  sharper  harm  to  England  and  to  Rome, 
Than  Calais  taken.     Julius  the  Third 
Was  ever  just,  and  mild,  and  fatherlike  ; 
But  this  new  Pope  Caraffa,  Paul  the  Fourth, 
Not  only  reft  me  of  that  legateship 
Which  Julius  gave  me,  and  the  legateship 
Annex'd  to  Canterbury  —  nay,  but  worse  — 
And  yet  I  must  obey  the  holy  father, 
And  so  must  you,  good  cousin ;  —  worse  than  all, 
A  passing  bell  toll'd  in  a  dying  ear  — 
He  hath  cited  me  to  Rome,  for  heresy, 
Before  his  Inquisition. 

Mary. 

I  knew  it,  cousin, 
But  held  from  you  all  papers  sent  by  Rome, 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  243 

That  you  might  rest  among  us,  till  the  Pope, 
To  compass  which  I  wrote  myself  to  Rome, 
Reversed  his  doom,  and  that  you  might  not  seem 
To  disobey  his  Holiness. 

Pole. 

He  hates  Philip ; 
He  is  all  Italian,  and  he  hates  the  Spaniard ; 
He  cannot  dream  that  /  advised  the  war ; 
He  strikes  thro'  me  at  Philip  and  yourself. 
Nay,  but  I  know  it  of  old,  he  hates  me  too  ; 
So  brands  me  in  the  stare  of  Christendom 
A  heretic ! 

Now,  even  now,  when  bow'd  before  my  time, 
The  house  half-ruin'd  ere  the  lease  be  out ; 
When  I  should  guide  the  Church  in  peace  at  home, 
After  my  twenty  years  of  banishment, 
And  all  my  lifelong  labor  to  uphold 
The  primacy  —  a  heretic.     Long  ago, 
When  I  was  ruler  in  the  patrimony, 
I  was  too  lenient  to  the  Lutheran, 
And  I  and  learned  friends  among  ourselves 
Would  freely  canvass  certain  Lutheranisms. 
What  then,  he  knew  I  was  no  Lutheran. 
A  heretic ! 
He  drew  this  shaft  against  me  to  the  head, 


244  Queen  Mary.  [act  v 

When  it  was  thought  I  might  be  chosen  Pope, 
But  then  withdrew  it.     In  full  consistory, 
When  I  was  made  Archbishop,  he  approved  me. 
And  how  should  he  have  sent  me  Legate  hither, 
Deeming  me  heretic  ?  and  what  heresy  since  ? 
But  he  was  evermore  mine  enemy, 
And  hates  the  Spaniard  —  fiery-choleric, 
A  drinker  of  black,  strong,  volcanic  wines, 
That  ever  make  him  fierier.     I,  a  heretic  ! 
Your  Highness  knows  that  in  pursuing  heresy 
I  have  gone  beyond  your  late  Lord  Chancellor,  — 
He  cried  Enough !  enough  !  before  his  death.  — 
Gone  beyond  him  and  mine  own  natural  man 
(It  was  God's  cause)  ;  so  far  they  call  me  now, 
The  scourge  and  butcher  of  their  English  church 

Mary. 
Have  courage,  your  reward  is  Heaven  itself. 

Pole. 
They  groan  amen  ;  they  swarm  into  the  fire 
Like  flies  —  for  what  ?  no  dogma.    They  know  nothing 
They  burn  for  nothing. 

Mary. 
You  have  done  your  best. 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  245 

Pole. 

Have  done  my  best,  and  as  a  faithful  son. 

That  all  day  long  hath  wrought  his  father's  work, 

When  back  he  comes  at  evening  hath  the  door 

Shut  on  him  by  the  father  whom  he  loved, 

His  early  follies  cast  into  his  teetk, 

And  the  poor  son  turn'd  out  into  the  street 

To  sleep,  to  die  —  I  shall  die  of  it,  cousin. 

Mary. 

I  pray  you  be  not  so  disconsolate  ; 

I  still  will  do  mine  utmost  with  the  Pope. 

Poor  cousin. 

Have  I  not  been  the  fast  friend  of  your  life 

Since  mine  began,  and  it  was  thought  we  two 

Might  make  one  flesh,  and  cleave  unto  each  other 

As  man  and  wife. 

Pole. 
Ah,  cousin,  I  remember 
How  I  would  dandle  you  upon  my  knee 
At  lisping-age.     I  watch'd  you  dancing  once 
With  your  huge  father  ;  he  look'd  the  Great  Harry, 
You  but  his  cockboat ;  prettily  you  did  it, 
And  innocently.     No  —  we  were  not  made 


246  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

One  flesh  in  happiness,  no  happiness  here  ; 
But  now  we  are  made  one  flesh  in  misery ; 
Our  bridemaids  are  not  lovely  —  Disappointment, 
Ingratitude,  Injustice,  Evil-tongue,. 
Labor-in-vain. 

Mary. 

Surely,  not  all  in  vain. 
Peace,  cousin,  peace  !     I  am  sad  at  heart  myself. 

Pole. 

Our  altar  is  a  mound  of  dead  men's  clay, 
Dug  from  the  grave  that  yawns  for  us  beyond  ; 
And  there  is  one  Death  stands  behind  the  Groom, 
And  there  is  one  Death  stands  behind  the  Bride  — 

Mary. 
Have  you  been  looking  at  the  "  Dance  of  Death  "  ? 

Pole. 

No  ;  but  these  libellous  papers  which  I  found 
Strewn  in  your  palace.     Look  you  here  —  the  Pope 
Pointing  at  me  with  "  Pole,  the  heretic, 
Thou  hast  burnt  others,  do  thou  burn  thyself, 
Or  I  will  burn  thee  "  and  this  other  ;  see  !  — 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  247 

"We  pray  continually  for  the  death 

Of  our  accursed  Queen  and  Cardinal  Pole." 

This  last  —  I  dare  not  read  it  her.  [Aside 

Mary. 

Away  ! 
Why  do  you  bring  me  these  ? 
I  thought  you  knew  me  better.     I  never  read, 
I  tear  them  ;  they  come  back  upon  my  dreams. 
The  hands  that  write  them  should  be  burnt  clean  off 
As  Cranmer's,  and  the  fiends  that  utter  them 
Tongue-torn  with  pincers,  lash'd  to  death,  or  lie 
Famishing  in  black  cells,  while  famish'd  rats 
Eat  them  alive.     Why  do  they  bring  me  these  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  drive  me  mad  ? 

Pole. 

I  had  forgotten 
How  these  poor  libels  trouble  you.     Your  pardon 
Sweet  cousin,  and  farewell !  "  O  bubble  world, 
Whose  colors  in  a  moment  break  and  fly  !  " 
Why,  who  said  that  ?  I  know  not  —  true  enough  ! 

[Puts  up  the  papers,  all  but  the  last,  which  falls 
Exit  Pole. 


248  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Alice. 

If  Cranmer's  spirit  were  a  mocking  one, 

And  heard  these  two,  there  might  be  sport  for  him. 

[Aside. 

Mary. 

Clarence,  they  hate  me ;  even  while  I  speak 
There  lurks  a  silent  dagger,  listening 
In  some  dark  closet,  some  long  gallery,  drawn, 
And  panting  for  my  blood  as  I  go  by. 

Lady  Clarence. 

Nay,  Madam,  there  be  loyal  papers  too, 
And  I  have  often  found  them. 

Mary. 

Find  me  one ! 

Lady  Clarence. 
Ay,  Madam  ;  but  Sir  Nicholas  Heath,  the  Chancellor, 
Would  see  your  Highness. 

Mary. 
Wherefore  should  I  see  him  ? 


sce.ne  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  249 

Lady  Clarence. 
Well,  Madam,  be  may  bring  you  news  from  Philip. 

Mary. 
So,  Clarence. 

Lady  Clarence. 
Let  me  first  put  up  your  hair ; 
It  tumbles  all  abroad. 

Mary. 

And  the  gray  dawn 
Of  an  old  age  that  never  will  be  mine 
Is  all  the  clearer  seen.     No,  no  ;  what  matters  ? 
Forlorn  I  am,  and  let  me  look  forlorn. 

Enter  Sir  Nicholas  Heath. 

Heath. 

I  bring  your  Majesty  such  grievous  news 

I  grieve  to  bring  it.     Madam,  Calais  is  taken. 

Mary. 

What  traitor  spoke  ?     Here,  let  my  cousin  Pole 
Seize  him  and  burn  him  for  a  Lutheran. 


250  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Heath. 
Her  Highness  is  unwell.     I  will  retire. 

Lady  Clarence. 
Madam,  your  chancellor,  Sir  Nicholas  Heath. 

Mary. 

Sir  Nicholas  ?     I  am  stunn'd  —  Nicholas  Heath  ? 
Methought  some  traitor  smote  me  on  the  head. 
What  said  you,  my  good  Lord,  that  our  brave  English 
Had  sallied  out  from  Calais  and  driven  back 
The  Frenchmen  from  their  trenches  ? 

0 

Heath. 

Alas  !  no. 
That  gateway  to  the  mainland  over  which 
Our  flag  hath  floated  for  two  hundred  years 
Is  France  again. 

Mary. 

So  ;  but  it  is  not  lost  — 
Not  yet.     Send  out :  let  England  as  of  old 
Rise  lionlike,  strike  hard  and  deep  into 
The  prey  they  are  rending  from  her  —  ay,  and  rend 
The  renders  too.     Send  out,  send  out,  and  make 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  251 

Musters  in  all  the  counties ;  gather  all 

From  sixteen  years  to  sixty ;  collect  the  fleet ; 

Let  every  craft  that  carries  sail  and  gun 

Steer  toward  Calais.     Guisnes  is  not  taken  yet  ? 

Heath. 
Guisnes  is  not  taken  yet. 

Mary. 
There  yet  is  hope. 

Heath. 

Ah,  Madam,  but  your  people  are  so  cold  ; 
I  do  much  fear  that  England  will  not  care. 
Methinks  there  is  no  manhood  left  among  us. 

Mary. 

Send  out ;  I  am  too  weak  to  stir  abroad  : 
Tell  my  mind  to  the  Council  —  to  the  Parliament : 
Proclaim  it  to  the  winds.     Thou  art  cold  thyself 
To  babble  of  their  coldness.     O  would  I  were 
My  father  for  an  hour  !     Away  now  —  quick  ! 

[Exit  Heath, 

I  hoped  I  had  served  God  with  all  my  might ! 

I I  seems  I  have  not.     Ah  !  much  heresy 


252  Queen  Mary.  [act  *. 

Shelter'd  in  Calais.     Saints,  I  have  rebuilt 

Your  shrines,  set  up  your  broken  images ; 

Be  comfortable  to  me.     Suffer  not 

That  my  brief  reign  in  England  be  defamed 

Thro'  all  her  angry  chronicles  hereafter 

By  loss  of  Calais.     Grant  me  Calais.     Philip, 

We  have  made  war  upon  the  Holy  Father 

All  for  your  sake  :  what  good  could  come  of  that  ? 

Lady  Clarence. 

No,  Madam,  not  against  the  Holy  Father ; 
You  did  but  help  King  Philip's  war  with  France. 
Your  troops  were  never  down  in  Italy. 

Mary. 

I  am  a  byword.     Heretic  and  rebel 

Point  at  me  and  make  merry.     Philip  gone  ! 

And  Calais  gone !     Time  that  I  were  gone  too  ! 

Lady  Clarence. 

Nay,  if  the  fetid  gutter  had  a  voice 
And  cried  I  was  not  clean,  what  should  I  care  ? 
Or  you,  for  heretic  cries  ?     And  I  believe, 
Spite  of  your  melancholy  Sir  Nicholas, 
Your  England  is  as  loyal  as  myself. 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  253 

Mary  {seeing  the  paper  dropt  by  Pole). 
There,  there  !  another  paper !  Said  you  not 
Many  of  these  were  loyal  ?     Shall  I  try 
If  this  be  one  of  such  ? 

Lady  Clarence. 

Let  it  be,  let  it  be. 
God  pardon  me  !  I  have  never  yet  found  one.      [Aside 

Mary  {reads).    ' 
"  Your  people  hate  you  as  your  husband  hates  you." 
Clarence,  Clarence,  what  have  I  done  ?  what  sin 
Beyond  all  grace,  all  pardon  ?     Mother  of  God, 
Thou  knowest  never  woman  meant  so  well, 
And  fared  so  ill  in  this  disastrous  world. 
My  people  hate  me  and  desire  my  death. 

Lady  Clarence. 
No,  Madam,  no. 

Mary. 
My  husband  hates  me,  and  desires  my  death. 

Lady  Clarence. 
No,  Madam  ;  these  are  libels. 

Mary. 
I  hate  myself,  and  I  desire  my  death. 


254  Queen  Mary.  [act  v 

Lady  Clarence. 
Long  live  your  Majesty  !     Shall  Alice  sing  you 
One  of  her  pleasant  songs  ?     Alice,  my  child, 
Bring  us  your  lute  (Alice  goes).  They  say  the  gloom  ol 

Saul 
Was  lighten'd  by  young  David's  harp. 

Mary. 

Too  young ! 

And  never  knew  a  Philip  (re-enter  Alice).     Give  me  the 

lute. 

He  hates  me  ! 

(She  sings.) 

Hapless  doom  of  woman  happy  in  betrothing  ! 

Beauty  passes  like  a  breath  and  love  is  lost  in  loathing : 

Low,  my  lute ;  speak  low,  my  lute,  but  say  the  world  is  nothing  — 

Low,  lute,  low  ! 
Love  will  hover  round  the  flowers  when  they  first  awaken  ; 
Love  will  fly  the  fallen  leaf,  and  not  be  overtaken  ; 
Low,  my  lute  !  oh  low,  my  lute  !  we  fade  and  are  forsaken  — 
Low,  dear  lute,  low  ! 

Take  it  away !  not  low  enough  for  me  ! 

Alice. 
Your  Grace  hath  a  low  voice. 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  255 

Mary. 

How  dare  you  say  it  ? 
Even  for  that  he  hates  me.     A  low  voice 
Lost  in  a  wilderness  where  none  can  hear ! 
A  voice  of  shipwreck  on  a  shoreless  sea ! 
A  low  voice  from  the  dust  and  from  the  grave  {sitting 

on  the  ground). 
There,  am  I  low  enough  now? 

Alice. 

Good  Lord  !  how  grim  and  ghastly  looks  her  Grace, 
With  both  her  knees  drawn  upward  to  her  chin. 
There  was  an  old-world  tomb  beside  my  father's, 
And  this  was  open'd,  and  the  dead  were  found 
Sitting,  and  in  this  fashion ;  she  looks  a  corpse. 

Efitcr  Lady  Magdalen  Dacres. 

Lady  Magdalen. 

Madam,  the  Count  de  Feria  waits  without, 
In  hopes  to  see  your  Highness. 

Lady  Clarence  (pointing  to  Mary). 

Wait  he  must  — 
Her  trance  again.     She  neither  sees  nor  hears, 
And  may  not  speak  for  hours. 


256  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Lady  Magdalen. 

Unhappiest 
Of  Queens  and  wives  and  women. 

Alice  (in  the  foreground  with  Lady  Magdalen). 


And  all  along 


Of  Philip. 


Lady  Magdalen. 

Not  so  loud !     Our  Clarence  there 
Sees  ever  such  an  aureole  round  the  Queen, 
It  gilds  the  greatest  wronger  of  her  peace, 
Who  stands  the  nearest  to  her. 

Alice. 

Ay,  this  Philip  ; 
I  used  to  love  the  Queen  with  all  my  heart  — 
God  help  me,  but  methinks  I  love  her  less 
For  such  a  dotage  upon  such  a  man. 
I  would  I  were  as  tall  and  strong  as  you. 

Lady  Magdalen. 
I  seem  half-shamed  at  times  to  be  so  tall. 

Alice. 
You  are  the  stateliest  deer  in  all  the  herd  — 


scene  II.]  Queen  Mary.  257 

Beyond  his  aim  —  but  I  am  small  and  scandalous, 
And  love  to  hear  bad  tales  of  Philip. 

Lady  Magdalen. 

Why? 
I  never  heard  him  utter  worse  of  you 
Than  that  you  were  low-statured. 

Alice. 

Does  he  think 
Low  stature  is  low  nature,  or  all  women's 
Low  as  his  own  ? 

Lady  Magdalen. 

There  you  strike  in  the  nail. 
This  coarseness  is  a  want  of  fantasy. 
It  is  the  low  man  thinks  the  woman  low  ; 
Sin  is  too  dull  to  see  beyond  himself. 

Alice. 
Ah,  Magdalen,  sin  is  bold  as  well  as  dub 
How  dared  he  ? 

Lady  Magdalen. 
Stupid  soldiers  oft  are  bold. 
Poor  lads,  they  see  not  what  the  general  sees, 


258  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

A  risk  of  utter  ruin.     I  am  not 
Beyond  his  aim,  or  was  not. 

Alice. 

Who  ?     Not  you  ? 
Tell,  tell  me  :  save  my  credit  with  myself. 

Lady  Magdalen. 
I  never  breathed  it  to  a  bird  in  the  eaves, 
Would  not  for  all  the  stars  and  maiden  moon 
Our  drooping  Queen  should  know !     In  Hampton  Court 
My  window  look'd  upon  the  corridor  ; 
And  I  was  robing ;  —  this  poor  throat  of  mine, 
Barer  than  I  should  wish  a  man  to  see  it,  — 
When  he  we  speak  of  drove  the  window  back, 
And,  like  a  thief,  push'd  in  his  royal  hand  ; 
But  by  God's  providence  a  good  stout  staff 
Lay  near  me  ;  and  you  know  me  strong  of  arm ; 
I  do  believe  I  lamed  his  Majesty's 
For  a  day  or  two,  tho',  give  the  Devil  his  due, 
I  never  found  he  bore  me  any  spite. 

Alice. 

I  would  she  could  have  wedded  that  poor  youth, 
My  Lord  of  Devon  —  light  enough,  God  knows, 
And  mixt  with  Wyatt's  rising —  and  the  boy 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  259 

Not  out  of  him  —  but  neither  cold,  coarse,  cruel, 
And  more  than  all  —  no  Spaniard. 

Lady  Clarence. 

Not  so  loud. 
Lord  Devon,  girls !  what  are  you  whispering  here  ? 

Alice. 

Probing  an  old  state-secret  —  how  it  chanced 
That  this  young  Earl  was  sent  on  foreign  travel, 
Not  lost  his  head. 

Lady  Clarence. 
There  was  no  proof  against  him. 

Alice. 

Nay,  Madam ;  did  not  Gardiner  intercept 
A  letter  which  the  Count  de  Noailles  wrote. 
To  that -dead  traitor,  Wyatt,  with  full  proof 
Of  Courtenay's  treason  ?     What  became  of  that  ? 

Lady  Clarence. 

Some  say  that  Gardiner,  out  of  love  for  him, 

Burnt  it,  and  some  relate  that  it  was  lost 

When  Wyatt  sack'd  the  Chancellor's  house  in  South- 

wark. 
Let  dead  things  rest. 


260  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 


Alice.. 
Ay,  and  with  him  who  died 


Alone  in  Italy. 


Lady  Clarence. 
Much  changed,  I  hear, 
Had  put  off  levity  and  put  graveness  on. 
The  foreign  courts  report  him  in  his  manner 
Noble  as  his  young  person  and  old  shield. 
It  might  be  so  —  but  all  is  over  now  ; 
He  caught  a  chill  in  the  lagoons  of  Venice, 
And  died  in  Padua. 

Mary  {looking  up  suddenly). 

Died  in  the  true  faith  ? 

Lady  Clarence. 
Ay,  Madam,  happily. 

Mary. 
Happier  he  than  I. 

Lady  Magdalen. 
It  seems  her  Highness  hath  awaken'd.     Think  you 
That  I  might  dare  to  tell  her  that  the  Count  — 


scene  il]  Queen  Mary.  261 

Mary. 

I  will  see  no  man  hence  forevermore, 
Saving  my  confessor  and  my  cousin  Pole, 

Lady  Magdalen. 
It  is  the  Count  de  Feria,  my  dear  lady. 


Mary. 
What  Count? 

Lady  Magdalen. 

The  Count  de  Feria,  from  his  Majesty 
King  Philip. 

Mary. 
Philip  !  quick  !  loop  up  my  hair  ! 
Throw  cushions  on  that  seat,  and  make  it  throne-like. 
Arrange  my  dress  —  the  gorgeous  Indian  shawl 
That  Philip  brought  me  in  our  happy  days  !  — 
That  covers  all.     So  —  am  I  somewhat  Queenlike, 
Bride  of  the  mightiest  sovereign  upon  earth  ? 

Lady  Clarence. 
Ay,  so  your  Grace  would  bide  a  moment  yet. 


262  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Mary. 

No,  no,  he  brings  a  letter.     I  may  die 
Before  I  read  it.     Let  me  see  him  at  once. 

Enter  Count  de  Feria  (kneels). 

Feria. 

1  trust  your   Grace   is   well,      (aside)    How  her  hand 
burns. 

Mary. 

I  am  not  well,  but  it  will  better  me, 

Sir  Count,  to  read  the  letter  which  you  bring. 

Feria. 
Madam,  I  bring  no  letter. 

Mary. 

How  !  no  letter  ? 

Feria. 
His  Highness  is  so  vex'd  with  strange  affairs  — 

Mary. 
That  his  own  wife  is  no  affair  of  his. 


scene  ii.]  Queen  Mary.  263 

Feria. 
Nay,  Madam,  nay  !  he  sends  his  veriest  love, 
And  says,  he  will  come  quickly. 

Mary. 

Doth  he,  indeed  ? 
You,  sir,  do  you  remember  what  you  said 
When  last  you  came  to  England  ? 

Feria. 

Madam,  I  brought 
My  King's  congratulations  ;  it  was  hoped 
Your  Highness  was  once  more  in  happy  state 
To  give  him  an  heir  male. 

Mary. 

Sir,  you  said  more  ; 
You  said  he  would  come  quickly.     I  had  horses 
On  all  the  road  from  Dover,  day  and  night ; 
On  all  the  road  from  Harwich,  night  and  day ; 
But  the  child  came  not,  and  the  husband  came  not ; 
And  yet  he  will  come  quickly.  .  .  .  Thou  hast  learnt 
Thy  lesson,  and  I  mine.     There  is  no  need 
For  Philip  so  to  shame  himself  again. 
Return, 
And  tell  him  that  I  know  he  comes  no  more. 


264  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Tell  him  at  last  I  know  his  love  is  dead, 
And  that  I  am  in  state  to  bring  forth  death  — 
Thou  art  commission'd  to  Elizabeth, 
And  not  to  me  ! 

Feria. 

Mere  compliments  and  wishes, 
But  shall  I  take  some  message  from  your  Grace  ? 

Mary. 

Tell  her  to  come  and  close  my  dying  eyes, 
And  wear  my  crown,  and  dance  upon  my  grave. 

Feria. 
Then  I  may  say  your  Grace  will  see  your  sister  ? 
Your  Grace  is  too  low-spirited.     Air  and  sunshine. 
I  would  we  had  you,  Madam,  in  our  warm  Spain. 
You  droop  in  your  dim  London. 

Mary. 

Have  him  away, 
I  sicken  of  his  readiness. 

Lady  Clarence. 

My  Lord  Count, 
Her  Highness  is  too  ill  for  colloquy. 


scene  in.]  Qzieen  Mary.  265 

Feria  {kneels,  and  kisses  her  hand). 

I  wish  her  Highness  better,  (aside)  How  her  hand  burns. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  III.  —  A  HOUSE  NEAR  LONDON. 

Elizabeth,  Steward  of  the  Household,  Attendants. 

Elizabeth. 

There's  half  an  angel  wrong'd  in  your  account ; 
Methinks  I  am  all  angel,  that  I  bear  it 
Without  more  ruffling.     Cast  it  o'er  again. 

Steward. 
I  were  whole  devil  if  I  wrong'd  you  Madam. 

[Exit  Steward. 

Attendant. 
The  Count  de  Feria,  from  the  King  of  Spain. 

Elizabeth. 
Ah  !  —  let  him  enter.     Nay,  you  need  not  go  : 

[To  her  Ladies. 
Remain  within  the  chamber,  but  apart. 
We'll  have  no  private  conference^  Welcome  to  England  J 


266  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Enter  Feria. 
Fair  island  star. 

Elizabeth. 
I  shine  !     What  else,  Sir  Count  ? 

Feria. 

As  far  as  France,  and  into  Philip's  heart. 
My  King  would  know  if  you  be  fairly  served, 
And  lodged,  and  treated. 

Elizabeth. 

You  see  the  lodging,  sir, 
I  am  well-served,  and  am  in  every  thing 
Most  loyal  and  most  grateful  to  the  Queen. 

Feria. 
You  should  be  grateful  to  my  master,  too, 
He  spoke  of  this ;  and  unto  him  you  owe 
That  Mary  hath  acknowledged  you  her  heir. 

Elizabeth. 

No,  not  to  her  nor  him  ;  but  to  the  people, 
Who  know  my  right,  and  love  me,  as  I  love 
The  people  !  whom  God  aid ! 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  267 

Feria. 

You  will  be  Queen, 
And,  were  I  Philip  — 

Elizabeth. 

Wherefore  pause  you  —  what  ? 

Feria. 
Nay,  but  I  speak  from  mine  own  self,  not  him : 
Your  royal  sister  cannot  last ;  your  hand 
Will  be  much  coveted !     What  a  delicate  one  ! 
Our  Spanish  ladies  have  none  such  —  and  there, 
Were  you  in  Spain,  this  fine  fair  gossamer  gold  — 
Like  sun-gilt  breathings  on  a  frosty  dawn  — 
That  hovers  round  your  shoulder  — 

Elizabeth. 

Is  it  so  fine  ? 
Troth,  some  have  said  so. 

Feria. 

—  would  be  deemed  a  miracle 

Elizabeth. 
Your  Philip  hath  gold  hair  and  golden  beard, 
There  must  be  ladies  many  with  hair  like  mine. 


268  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Feria. 

Some  few  of  Gothic  blood  have  golden  hair, 
But  none  like  yours. 

Elizabeth. 

I  am  happy  you  approve  it.    • 

■ 

Feria. 
But  as  to  Philip  and  your  Grace  —  consider,  — 
If  such  a  one  as  you  should  match  with  Spain, 
What  hinders  but  that  Spain  and  England  join'd, 
Should  make  the  mightiest  empire  earth  has  known. 
Spain  would  be  England  on  her  seas,  and  England 
Mistress  of  the  Indies. 

Elizabeth. 

It  may  chance,  that  England 
Will  be  the  mistress  of  the  Indies  yet, 
Without  the  help  of  Spain. 

Feria. 

Impossible ; 
Except  you  put  Spain  down. 
Wide  of  the  mark  ev'n  for  a  madman's  dream. 


scene  in.]  Queen  Mary.  269 

Elizabeth. 

Perhaps ;  but  we  have  seamen.     Count  de  Feria, 
I  take  it  that  the  King  hath  spoken  to  you  ; 
But  is  Don  Carlos  such  a  goodly  match  ? 

Feria. 
Don  Carlos,  Madam,  is  but  twelve  years  old. 

Elizabeth. 

Ay,  tell  the  King  that  I  will  muse  upon  it ; 
He  is  my  good  friend,  and  I  would  keep  him  so  ; 
But  —  he  would  have  me  Catholic  of  Rome, 
And  that  I  scarce  can  be ;  and,  sir,  till  now 
My  sister's  marriage,  and  my  father's  marriages, 
Make  me  full  fain  to  live  and  die  a  maid. 
But  I  am  much  beholden  to  your  King. 
Have  you  aught  else  to  tell  me  ? 

Feria. 

Nothing,  Madam, 
Save  that  methought  I  gather'd  from  the  Queen 
That  she  would  see  your  Grace  before  she  —  died. 

Elizabeth. 

God's  death  !  and  wherefore  spake  you  not  before  ? 
We  dally  with  our  lazy  moments  here, 


270  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

And  hers  are  number'd.     Horses  there,  without ! 
I  am  much  beholden  to  the  King,  your  master. 
Why  did  you  keep  me  prating  ?     Horses,  there  ! 

[Exit  Elizabeth,  &*c. 

Feria. 

So  from  a  clear  sky  falls  the  thunderbolt ! 
Don  Carlos  ?     Madam,  if  you  marry  Philip, 
Then  I  and  he  will  snaffle  your  "  God's  death," 
And  break  your  paces  in,  and  make  you  tame ; 
God's  deajth,  forsooth  —  you  do  not  know  King  Philip. 

\Exit. 


SCENE  IV.  — LONDON.    BEFORE  THE  PALACE. 

A  light  burning  within.     Voices  of  the  flight  passing. 

First. 
Is  not  yon  light  in  the  Queen's  chamber  ? 

Second. 

Ay, 


They  say  she's  dying. 


First. 
So  is  Cardinal  Pole. 


scene  iv.]  Queen  Mary.  271 

May  the  great  angels  join  their  wings,  and  make  • 
Down  for  their  heads  to  heaven  ? 

Second. 

Amen.     Come  on. 
\Exeu  it 

Two  Others. 
First. 
There's  the  Queen's  light.     I  hear  she  cannot  live. 

Second. 
God  curse  her  and  her  Legate  !     Gardiner  burns 
Already ;  but  to  pay  them  full  in  kind, 
The  hottest  hold  in  all  the  devil's  den 
Were  but  a  sort  of  winter  ;  sir,  in  Guernsey, 
I  watch'd  a  woman  burn  ;  and  in  her  agony 
The  mother  came  upon  her  —  a  child  was  born  — 
And,  sir,  they  hurl'd  it  back  into  the  fire, 
That,  being  but  baptized  in  fire,  the  babe 
Might  be  in  fire  forever.     Ah,  good  neighbor, 
There  should  be  something  fierier  than  fire 
To  yield  them  their  deserts. 

First. 

Amen  to  all 
You  wish,  and  further. 


272  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

A  Third  Voice. 

Deserts  !  Amen  to  what  ?  Whose  deserts  ?  Yours  ? 
You  have  a  gold  ring  on  your  finger,  and  soft  raiment 
about  your  body  ;  and  is  not  the  woman  up  yonder 
sleeping  after  all  she  has  done,  in  peace  and  quietness, 
on  a  soft  bed,  in  a  closed  room,  with  light,  fire,  physic, 
tendance ;  and  I  have  seen  the  true  men  of  Christ  lying 
famine-dead  by  scores,  and  under  no  ceiling  but  the 
cloud  that  wept  on  them,  not  for  them. 

First. 

Friend,  tho'  so  late,  it  is  not  safe  to  preach. 
You  had  best  go  home.     What  are  you  ? 

Third. 

What  am  I  ?  One  who  cries  continually  with  sweat 
and  tears  to  the  Lord  God  that  it  would  please  Him 
out  of  His  infinite  love  to  break  down  all  kingship  and 
queenship,  all  priesthood  and  prelacy ;  to  cancel  and 
abolish  all  bonds  of  human  allegiance,  all  the  magis- 
tracy, all  the  nobles,  and  all  the  wealthy ;  and  to  send 
us  again,  according  to  his  promise,  the  one  King,  the 
Christ,  and  all  things  in  common,  as  in  the  day  of  the 
first  church,  when  Christ  Jesus  was  King. 

First. 
If  ever  I  heard  a  madman,  —  let's  away  1 


scene  v.]  Qtteen  Mary.  273 

Why,  you  long-winded  —     Sir,  you  go  beyond  me. 
I  pride  myself  on  being  moderate. 
Good-night !     Go  home.     Besides,  you  curse  so  loud, 
The  watch  will  hear  you.     Get  you  home  at  once. 

\_Exeunt. 


SCENE  V.  — LONDON.      A   ROOM   IN    THE 

PALACE. 

A  Gallery  on  one  side.  The  moonlight  streaming  through 
a  range  of  windows  on  the  wall  opposite.  Mary, 
Lady  Clarence,  Lady  Magdalen  Dacres,  Alice. 
Queen  pacing  the  Gallery.  A  writing-table  in  front. 
Queen  comes  to  the  table  and  writes  and  goes  again, 
pacing  the  Gallery. 

Lady  Clarence. 
Mine  eyes  are  dim  :  what  hath  she  written  ?  read. 

Alice. 
"  I  am  dying,  Philip  ;  come  to  me." 

Lady  Magdalen. 

There  —  up  and  down,  poor  lady,  up  and  down. 
18 


274  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Alice. 

And  how  her  shadow  crosses  one  by  one 

The  moonlight  casements  pattern'd  on  the  wall, 

Following  her  like  her  sorrow.     She  turns  again. 

[Queen  sits  and  writes,  and  goes  again. 

Lady  Clarence. 
What  hath  she  written  now  ? 

Alice. 

Nothing ;  but  "  come,  come,  come,"  and  all  awry, 
And  blotted  by  her  tears.     This  cannot  last. 

[Queen  returns. 

Mary. 

I  whistle  to  the  bird  has  broken  cage, 

And  all  in  vain.  [Sitting  down. 

Calais  gone  —  Guisnes  gone,  too  —  and  Philip  gone  ! 

Lady  Clarence. 
Dear  Madam,  Philip  is  but  at  the  wars  ; 
I  cannot  doubt  but  that  he  comes  again  ; 
And  he  is  with  you  in  a  measure  still. 
I  never  look'd  upon  so  fair  a  likeness 
As  your  great  King  in  armor  there,  his  hand 
Upon  his  helmet. 

[Pointing  to  the  portrait  of  Philip  on  the  wall. 


scene  v.]  Q?ieen  Mary.  275 

Mary. 

Doth  he  not  look  noble  ? 
I  had  heard  of  him  in  battle  over  seas, 
And  I  would  have  my  warrior  all  in  arms. 
He  said  it  was  not  courtly  to  stand  helmeted 
Before  the  Queen.     He  had  his  gracious  moment 
Altho'  you'll  not  believe  me.     How  he  smiles 
As  if  he  loved  me  yet ! 

Lady  Clarence. 

And  so  he  does. 

Mary. 
He  never  loved  me  —  nay,  he  could  not  love  me. 
It  was  his  father's  policy  against  France. 
I  am  eleven  years  older  than  he, 
Poor  boy.  [  Weeps. 

Alice. 
That  was  a  lusty  boy  of  twenty-seven  ;  [Asid^, 

Poor  enough  in  God's  grace  ! 

Mary. 

—  And  all  in  vain  I 
The  Queen  of  Scots  is  married  to  the  Dauphin, 
And  Charles,  the  lord  of  this  low  world  is  gone  : 


276  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

And  all  his  wars  and  wisdoms  past  away ; 
And  in  a  moment  I  shall  follow  him. 

Lady  Clarence. 
Nay,  dearest  Lady,  see  your  good  physician. 

Mary. 

Drugs  —  but  he  knows  they  cannot  help  me  — says 
That  rest  is  all  —  tells  me  I  must  not  think  — 
That  I  must  rest  —  I  shall  rest  by  and  by. 
Catch  the  wild  cat,  cage  him,  and  when  he  springs 
And  maims  himself  against  the  bars,  say  "  rest :  " 
Why,  you  must  kill  him  if  you  would  have  him  rest  — 
Dead  or  alive  you  cannot  make  him  happy. 

Lady  Clarence. 

Your  Majesty  has  lived  so  pure  a  life, 

And  done  such  mighty  things  by  Holy  Church, 

I  trust  that  God  will  make  you  happy  yet. 

Mary. 

What  is  the  strange  thing  happiness  ?     Sit  down  here  : 
Tell  me  thine  happiest  hour. 

Lady  Clarence. 

I  will,  if  that 
May  make  your  Grace  forget  yourself  a  little. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  277 

There  runs  a  shallow  brook  across  our  field 
For  twenty  miles,  where  the  black  crow  flies  five, 
And  doth  so  bound  and  babble  all  the  way 
As  if  itself  were  happy.     It  was  May-time, 
And  I  was  walking  with  the  man  I  loved. 
I  l.'wed  him,  but  I  thought  I  was  not  loved. 
And  both  were  silent,  letting  the  wild  brook 
Speak  for  us  —  till  he  stoop'd  and  gather'd  one 
From  out  a  bed  of  thick  forget-me-nots, 
Look'd  hard  and  sweet  at  me,  and  gave  it  me, 
I  took  it,  tho'  I  did  not  know  I  took  it, 
And  put  it  in  my  bosom,  and  all  at  once 
I  felt  his  arms  about  me,  and  his  lips  — 

Mary. 
O  God  !     I  have  been  too  slack,  too  slack ; 
There  are  Hot  Gospellers  even  among  our  guards  — 
Nobles  we  dared  not  touch.     We  have  but  burnt 
The  heretic  priest,  workmen,  and  women  and  children. 
Wet,  famine,  ague,  fever,  storm,  wreck,  wrath,  — 
We  have  so  play'd  the  coward  ;  but  by  God's  grace, 
We'll  follow  Philip's  leading,  and  set  up 
The  Holy  Office  here  —  garner  the  wheat, 
And  burn  the  tares  with  unquenchable  fire ! 
Burn !  — 
Fie,  what  a  savor !  tell  the  cooks  to  close 


278  Qiiee7i  Mary.  [act  v. 

The  doors  of  all  the  offices  below. 

Latimer  ! 

Sir,  we  are  private  with  our  women  here  — 

Ever  a  rough,  blunt,  and  uncourtly  fellow  — 

Thou  light  a  torch  that  never  will  go  out ! 

'Tis  out  —  mine  flames.     Women,  the  Holy  Father 

Has  ta'en  the  legateship  from  our  cousin  Pole  — 

Was  that  well  done  ?  and  poor  Pole  pines  of  it, 

As  I  do,  to  the  death.     I  am  but  a  woman, 

I  have  no  power.  —  Ah,  weak  and  meek  old  man, 

Sevenfold  dishonor'd  even  in  the  sight 

Of  thine  own  sectaries  —  No,  no.     No  pardon  !  — 

Why  that  was  false :  there  is  the  right  hand  still 

Beckons  me  hence. 

Sir,  you  were  burnt  for  heresy,  not  for  treason, 

Remember  that !  'twas  I  and  Bonner  did  it, 

And  Pole ;   we  are  three   to  one  —  Have  you  found 

mercy  there, 
Grant  it  me  here  :  and  see  he  smiles  and  goes, 
Gentle  as  in  life. 

Alice. 
Madam,  who  goes  ?     King  Philip  ? 

Mary. 
No,  Philip  comes  and  goes,  but  never  goes. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  279 

Women,  when  I  am  dead, 

Open  my  heart,  and  there  you  will  find  written 

Two  names,  Philip  and  Calais  ;  open  his,  — 

So  that  he  have  one,  — 

You  will  find  Philip  only,  policy,  policy,  — 

Ay,  worse  than  that  —  not  one  hour  true  to  me ! 

Foul  maggots  crawling  in  a  fester'd  vice  ! 

Adulterous  to  the  very  heart  of  Hell. 

Hast  thou  a  knife  ? 

Alice. 
Ay,  Madam,  but  o'  God's  mercy  — 

Mary. 

Fool,  think'st  thou  I  would  peril  mine  own  soul 
By  slaughter  of  the  body  ?     I  could  not,  girl, 
Not  this  way  —  callous  with  a  constant  stripe, 
Unwoundable.     Thy  knife ! 

Alice. 

Take  heed,  take  heed  1 
The  blade  is  keen  as  death. 

Mary. 

This  Philip  shall  not 
Stare  in  upon  me  in  my  haggardness  ; 


280  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Old,  miserable,  diseased, 

Incapable  of  children.     Come  thou  down. 

[Cuts  out  the  picture  and  throws  it  down 
Lie  there.     {Wails.)     O  God,  I  have  killed  my  Philip. 

Alice. 

No, 
Madam,  you  have  but  cut  the  canvas  out, 
We  can  replace  it. 

Mary. 

All  is  well  then;  rest  — 
I  will  to  rest ;  he  said,  I  must  have  rest. 

[Cries  of  "  Elizabeth  "  in  the  street. 
A  cry  !     What's  that  ?  Elizabeth  ?  revolt  ? 
A  new  Northumberland,  another  Wyatt  ? 
I'll  fight  it  on  the  threshold  of  the  grave. 

Lady  Clarence. 
Madam,  your  royal  sister  comes  to  see  you. 

Mary. 
I  will  not  see  her. 

Who  knows  if  Boleyn's  daughter  be  my  sister  ? 
I  will  see  none  except  the  priest.     Your  arm. 

[To  Lady  Clarence. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  281 

O  Saint  of  Aragon,  with  that  sweet  worn  smile 
Among  thy  patient  wrinkles  —  Help  me  hence.  [Exeunt. 

The  Priest  passes.     Enter  Elizabeth  and  Sir 
William  Cecil. 

Elizabeth. 
Good  counsel  yours  — 

No  one  in  waiting  ?  still, 
As  if  the  chamberlain  were  Death  himself ! 
The  room  she  sleeps  in  —  is  not  this  the  way  ? 
No,  that  way  there  are  voices.     Am  I  too  late  ? 
Cecil     .     .     .     God  guide  me  lest  I  lose  the  way. 

[Exit  Elizabeth. 

Cecil. 

Many  points  weather'd,  many  perilous  ones, 

At  last  a  harbor  opens ;  but  therein 

Sunk  rocks  —  they  need  fine  steering  —  much  it  is 

To  be  nor  mad,  nor  bigot  —  have  a  mind  — 

Not  let  Priests'  talk,  or  dream  of  worlds  to  be, 

Miscolor  things  about  her  —  sudden  touches 

For  him,  or  him  —  sunk  rocks  ;  no  passionate  faith  — 

But  —  if  let  be  —  balance  and  compromise  ; 

Brave,  wary,  sane  to  the  heart  of  her —  a  Tudor 

SchooPd  by  the  shadow  of  death — a  Boleyn,  too, 

Glancing  across  the  Tudor  —  not  so  well. 


282  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

E?iter  Alice. 
How  is  the  good  Queen  now  ? 

Alice. 

Away  from  Philip. 
Back  in  her  childhood  —  prattling  to  her  mother 
Of  her  betrothal  to  the  Emperor  Charles, 
And  childlike-jealous  of  him  again  —  and  once 
She  thank'd  her  father  sweetly  for  his  book 
Against  that  godless  German.     Ah,  those  days 
Were  happy.     It  was  never  merry  world 
In  England,  since  the  Bible  came  among  us. 

Cecil. 
And  who  says  that  ? 

Alice. 
It  is  a  saying  among  the  Catholics. 

Cecil. 

It  never  will  be  merry  world  in  England, 
Till  all  men  have  their  Bible,  rich  and  poor. 

Alice. 
The  Queen  is  dying,  or  you  dare  not  say  it. 


scene  v.]  Queen  Mary.  283 

Etiter  Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth. 
The  Queen  is  dead. 

Cecil. 
Then  here  she  stands  !  my  homage. 

Elizabeth. 
She  knew  me,  and  acknowledged  me  her  heir, 
Pray'd  me  to  pay  her  debts,  and  keep  the  Faith  ; 
Then  claspt  the  cross,  and  pass'd  away  in  peace. 
I  left  her  lying  still  and  beautiful, 
More  beautiful  than  in  life.     Why  would  you  vex  your- 
self, 
Poor  sister  ?     Sir,  I  swear  I  have  no  heart 
To  be  your  Queen.     To  reign  is  restless  fence, 
Tierce,  quart,  and  trickery.     Peace  is  with  the  dead. 
Her  life  was  winter,  for  her  spring  was  nipt : 
And  she  loved  much  :  pray  God  she  be  forgiven. 

Cecil. 
Peace  with  the  dead,  who  never  were  at  peace ! 
Yet  she  loved  one  so  much  —  I  needs  must  say  — 
That  never  English  monarch  dying  left 
England  so  little. 


284  Queen  Mary.  [act  v. 

Elizabeth. 
But  with  Cecil's  aid 
And  others,  if  our  person  be  secured 
From  traitor  stabs  — we  will  make  England  great. 

Enter  Paget,  and  other  Lords  of  the  Council,  Sir 
Ralph  Bagenhall,  &c. 

Lords. 
God  save  Elizabeth,  the  Queen  of  England ! 

Bagenhall. 
God  save  the  Crown :  the  Papacy  is  no  more. 

Paget  {aside). 
Are  we  so  sure  of  that  ? 

Acclamation. 

God  save  the  Queen  ! 


THE   END. 

Iff-  ** 


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